


Unexpected

by ReticentResolve



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: (but only kind of?), Alternate Universe, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Illnesses, M/M, Midieval AU, Slow Burn, Some sexual undertones, Torture, but nothing explicit, for now, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 20:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReticentResolve/pseuds/ReticentResolve
Summary: The Master thief has finally been caught, sneaking about in the Queen's castle nonetheless. He'd always gone into every task telling himself he might not make it out. He expected it.He didn't however, expect to fall in love with the guard that watched him.





	Unexpected

The Master thief was caught. Done for. Soon to face the Empress herself for his innumerable crimes. Sitting in a cell that was hardly large enough for the small cot that was strung up from one side to the other.  
  
The cot that slowly swayed with each tiny draft. It sent a shiver through his spine every time. For the soldiers had confiscated everything off of his person, leaving him in nothing but his britches.  
  
He hated it, being exposed as such. Confined. Even more so when the only thought that plagued his mind was the upcoming judgement he was to be facing. Despite prepping himself for this eventuality, he was still thrown into complete shock.  
  
He was caught. He'd never been caught before. Not even as a bumbling child.  
  
A few muted words were spoken outside of his cell, and then the door opened. Only a crack at first, and then the rest of the way. Garrett stood from his spot on the floor and backed further towards the corner while keeping his arms wrapped around his chest in a very vague attempt to preserve his dignity.  
  
The man that came in was almost tauntingly fully dressed. Not only in his uniform,but with a coat and hat above it. He locked eyes with Garrett and paused for a brief moment before he left the door open just a crack and walked over to the cot, setting down a palm sized burlap sack and turning away.  
  
He only spoke when he was safely back to the door with his hand on the lock. "I am General Attano, I've been assigned to watch this wing of the prison so long as you remain within it. Criminals are fed twice a day. You can expect me at noon and sunset.  
  
And he was gone as quickly as he came,the sound of three locks being put in place and heavy boots clicking against the ground echoing behind him.  
  
Garrett didn't move for 15 minutes before he slowly shuffled to where the small burlap sack sat. As unmoving as ever. And yet he was still wary of opening it.  
  
He wasn't sure what he expected it to be. They were unlikely to kill him without making a show of it. Gather the crowds around his gallows to witness his boots fall. Like the morbid sport it was.  
  
Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled the twine from where it held the sack tight. Inside sat the only items they had thought harmless enough to return. A small amount of birdseed he carried for when Jenivere was sent to him, a few beads, and a quill that had been snapped in half somewhere during his capture.  
  
Gods know why they had returned these items to begin with. With who he was dealing with, he could only see it as a taunt. To show him how little control he truly had. Over all the aspects of his life. Including his possessions. The things he had worked his entire life for.  
  
Would they find his home? Basso? Erin?  
  
He kept hints of his life and traces of himself scarce, but he was sure they were there regardless of his efforts. And he was under the Empress's rule now.If anyone could find him, her army of spies could.  
  
And, he wasn't going to lie, he was scared. He couldn't stop his shaking palms.  
  
He wanted to go home.

* * *

  
  
"Piero." Corvo greets the supplyman who stood behind his desk with his hands folded together. "Do you know the soldier who searched the thief?"  
  
The balding man glances up. "I do not. You know I have no jurisdiction over them. Now why are you here?" Corvo gives him a stern look and he quickly adds on. "General."  
  
Corvo crosses his arms and answers. "He's all skin and bones. They've left him in a state of undress and I should like to insure he lives to face the Empress's judgement."  
  
Piero seemed about to speak once more, but thought better of it and turned to where the clothing provided to workers and soldiers stationed in the castle sat folded in the next shelves. He took a coat from the most populated shelf and handed it to Corvo along with a pair of socks. "Be careful with that one, Corvo, you know what they say about thieves."  
  
"They bring nothing on but Dishonor." Corvo answers, nodding and tucking the clothing beneath an arm. "I remember."  
  
Thievery was held in a very low light. And while it undoubtedly wasn't held in a high regard anywhere, Dunwall specifically had some very strict laws about it. Rules which Corvo wholeheartedly agreed with.  
  
But he wasn't cruel. The cells already had drafts and leaks, he wasn't about to keep the prisoner in rags. And he was certain no one would question him. He had worked with the Empress since he was sixteen. She trusted him to make decisions on his own. Others were expected to respect that.  
  
For the majority of the time, people did. There was always going to be a young man with too large a head for his station, but they weren't hard to tell off. Always got intimidated real easily.  
  
Thus why some four years ago he was assigned to the head position in the prison at the castle after the previous holder of it passed away.  
  
He liked his position. He still had his comfortable quarters a hallway down from the actual barracks- something that was extended to other men besides him of similar statuses- And he was still allowed contact with the Empress and her young daughter.  
  
There was also a certain amount of satisfaction he got out of bringing justice upon the criminals that were placed under his jurisdiction.  
  
Along the same lines of his job, he would have to gather the meals for the few people that currently occupied the prison. And give the thief his coat.  
  
  
Garrett hated being in one place. He hated being still. Even though he knew it wouldn't do him any good, he just kept pacing back and forth along the wall. The wall with the one stone that stuck out a bit more. And the drip of dried cement in the corner where it had been messily applied.  
  
Unremarkable. Simple.  
  
Terrifying.  
  
Because it would be the only thing he would see the next passing weeks. Because it might be the last wall he is truly able to look at.  
  
He'd stilled in his pacing, wringing his crossed arms over his elbows as his breaths came heavier and heavier, a tiny puff visible with each exhale.  
  
What was there left to say? He was done for. Every footstep that he heard outside of the heavy oak door sent him into a flight of panic. Or as much of one as he could manage in this room.  
  
Then the door opened once more, and Garrett briefly considered attempting to shove his way out before the same hulking frame as before blocked the door, both arms occupied.  
  
One with a cracked wooden bowl filled with some sort of slop, and the other one that was under the door with something dark blue tucked in his pit.  
  
Garrett swallowed nervously as the man made his way the short few steps over to him, and spoke. "Is it noon...or sunset?"  
  
There was nothing about. His sense of time had begun to elude him. It was unnerving. Generally he would be sleeping during the former, but he didn't much feel up to sleeping at the moment.  
  
"Sunset." The man answers, holding out the bowl until Garrett hesitantly takes it before taking the item from his other arm and doing the same. "A coat. I can't have you freezing down here before the Empress passes her judgement."  
  
Garrett pauses again, places the bowl on the floor, and takes the coat from the guards hand. He turned it over. Nothing looked particularly off about it. "You are...the prison master?" Why was he trying to talk to him? He had already turned and had his hand on the doorknob once more.  
  
The guard pauses to look back at him for a moment. "Yes. I am General Attano, currently stationed as the Head of Prison in the castle."  
  
And he left once again as curtly as he came, the same sound of three locks being put into place and the doorknob clicking behind him before the sound of his retreating footsteps.  
  
Garrett turns the coat over in his hands twice before opening it to look at the lining. From what he could see, it was some sort of leather with the inside lined with cotton and some fur. The leather had been died blue, but it had faded back to the dull tan on the ends of the sleeves and around the buttons.  
  
Very recognizable as the same exact coat that Genaral Attano himself was wearing- albeit less ornate and smaller.  
  
He felt, for the briefest of moments, that he should be thankful. To the man who had felt it was fit to allow him a coat. But then recalled that he was one of the same men who likely chased him through the halls all but one day ago.  
  
One of the same men who would be cheering in mere days when his head fell from his shoulders. Nothing but a corrupt militaryman. Like all the others.  
  
Glancing down, Garrett recalled the bowl of slop on the floor. It was looking less and less appetizing by the minute. But he didn't want for it to by lying in the middle of the room. This place was likely rife with rats waiting for something of this like. So he pulled the coat- that was more comfortable than he would admit- over his shoulders and moved the bowl back over to directly in front of where the line of sight would be when one opened the door.  
  
It briefly occurred to him that it might be spilled. But it seemed that his attitude from some years ago when he was in his teen years, where he would scare guards on their patrol was not quite snuffed out.  
  
Even in the situation he was in, it made him chuckle to imagine the look on the General's bearded face.

* * *

  
  
There was only one other prisoner at the moment. Not many warranted being kept in the castle's own prison, and so were sent to the next town over where there was another prison with more men specifically devoted to keeping an eye on them. It was just a young soldier who had committed some questionable acts during his shifts in the castle.  
  
And so Corvo didn't have much to do. A lot of his previous duties had been lifted when he had gotten this position. His only patrols were around the prison cells. Occasionally he would join either the Empress or her daughter Emily after carrying out his duties, but he didn't want rumours to spread so he kept from doing so often.  
  
Even should he want to, there were always duties they had to take care of. It being winter, the Empress was to assist the agricultural advisors in what would be beneficial for the farmers to plant the coming spring.  
  
And Emily had recently been able to convince her mother to allow her to study some swordplay. Which they had asked Corvo to do, which he respectfully denied and insisted as actual instructor would surely work out better.  
  
So he found himself sitting outside the eastern door of the prisons. On the frigid grass no less, watching the orange the sunset dyed the land move further and further away.  
  
Ever so briefly, his eyes caught on the wall he knew the cell that held the Master thief sat within.  
  
Corvo would admit, he was curious about the man. He had remained uncaught despite many efforts. What had convinced him to risk that and come to a castle? He hadn't had anything of importance on him when he had been caught. Some coinpurses- which had been promptly returned- a few candlesticks and a pendant from a maidens quarters.  
  
And why else would a thief be sneaking about somewhere so dangerous if not to steal something of great importance  
  
He knew that many thieves turned to assassins...what if he had been hired to kill someone in the castle? It wouldn't be someone like a maid. Who the devil would pay enough to lure the Master thief out here just to take care of a maid?  
  
With a grunt, Corvo rises and makes for the center building where the Empress's quarters lie as darkness overtakes the land and a few torches start being lit in the distance.  
  
He would likely be called paranoid, but he also knew his mind would not stop racing until he learned the complete truth behind this. So he nigh stalked all the way through the blue and gold halls, the same color as the soldiers uniform.  
  
His boots thumped heavily as he walked across the light grey stone floor covered by a long cobalt carpet. Every window had curtains of the same shade, and across the opposite wall ran the long line of gold inlay- there were inlays along each hallway- that shone a dark brass color in the setting sun. Some 60 years ago there had been a recession- Corvo was not born then- and all the inlays had been stripped and cut with two thirds parts brass. According to the senior soldiers, it shone less than before, but seemed to fit the cobalt a bit better.  
  
The two inlays stopped and wrapped around the door to the royal bedroom, where Corvo rapped his knuckles on the hard wood three times ad took a respectful step back. A short moment passed and the familiar sound of the Empress's strong voice rang out. "Enter."  
  
Corvo opened the door and slipped in, finding the Empress standing in her evening dress with her black hair still up. "Good evening, Milady."  
  
"Jessamine." She responds and turns away with an amused look, visibly relaxing now that she knows who had come.  
  
"Milady-" Corvo attempts to reprimand, already knowing he would be interrupted just like every time they had this conversation.  
  
"We are in private." She turns to give him a mildly annoyed look. "You may call me by my first name."  
  
Corvo smiles. "Yes, Jesse." He can see her roll her eyes even though she had turned her back. He had seen it so many times before.  
  
"Would you like to stay for evening tea and we can discuss whatever it was that brought you here?" She asks, leaning closer to the mirror and beginning to remove her crown and take down her hair.  
  
Despite his better judgement, Corvo responds. "Yes, I think I should like that."  
  
He couldn't wait to hear the rumours that would spread about this.

* * *

  
  
The maids had brought up chamomile- which Jessamine didn't particularly lie, but Corvo did- and some type of fruity pastry. The two migrated over to the small table that was specifically built for the Empress to speak to others over tea.  
  
"Well?" Jessamine asks, stirring her cup daintily and handing Corvo the saucer of loose sugar.  
  
Corvo pauses a moment, the awkward silence only permeated by soft clinks of metal on porcelain. "I'd hoped to speak to you about allowing me to interrogate the thief."  
  
Jessamine screws up her mouth a bit. "I'll make a decision, Corvo, give me longer than a day."  
  
"It's not that." Corvo shakes his head. "I'll respect whatever you choose. I want to insure, though, that he had no malicious intent."  
  
She sits back a bit, and crosses her arms. "I should think no one would have any objections. I don't care what you do with people in your prisons."  
  
"Thank you, milady."  
  
Jessamine rolls her eyes and retrieves a pastry from the tray on the table "Now that that is decided, I wanted to have a word with you about Emily's training."

* * *

  
  
The next day, shortly after his morning bread, Corvo had done the short walk to the interrogation room and ensured that in the few long months it had lain unused, none of the tools had gone missing.  
  
He'd then lit the torches strewn about the windowless room, and started the walk back to the cells with a length of twine in his hands. The walk back was only a minute or so, but he didn't want to risk restraining him by hand. Despite the thief's tiny frame.  
  
He pauses for a moment at the door to retrieve the keys from his belt, and steps through the door to be met with a loud clunk and something spilling.  
  
"What..." Corvo mutters, looking down to his soiled boot that had flipped over the last night's bowl of food onto his leg.  
  
From the other side of the room where the thief had obviously darted out from the cot, there's a soft chuckle. Accompanied by a tiny smirk on his face.  
  
There's a small flash of hot anger that surges through him, and Corvo scoffs before almost stalking over to the thief who scrunches in on himself.  
  
"I'm going to be asking you some questions today." Corvo says, snatching the thief's hand from where it was held close to his body ad knotting it to the other.  
  
"How romantic." The thief mutters behind him as Corvo tugs perhaps too hard on the rope that he had in his hand from the end of the knot to get him to follow.  
  
He only realized when he glanced behind him to see the thief looking about wildly that he should have blindfolded him. The room they had put him in was the most secure one they had, but he was called the Master Thief for a reason, and Corvo wasn't going to underestimate him.  
  
At least the chamber they were heading to was only two short halls down, both of which held nothing but cells.  
  
When they reached the door, where a torch was lit to signify it was in use and no one was to interrupt, the thief paused for a moment, seeming to consider something and screwing up his mouth and brows in an anxious sort of way.  
  
Corvo tugged on the twine and forcefully led him into the room before just as forcefully sitting him down in the heavy oak chair in the middle, securing the twine around the back so he couldn't move his arms out from behind him.  
  
The thief had a very strange look on his face. His lips were pressed hard together, there were soft wrinkles that had appeared near his eyes from the tenseness of his face.  
  
Of course, there was never a prisoner that was not tense in this room, but something about the look on his face seemed to be almost different. It made him feel...nervous? He wasn't sure. But he wasn't about to allow that to conflict with his need for answers.  
  
But there wasn't any harm in trying to keep conflict to a minimum. "If you answer me now, I will end this session with no drama."  
  
The thief didn't give him any answer. He just continued to glare at the floor.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
He gave no answer.  
  
His name was indeed needed, to insure that he would pay for all the crimes under it, but there was likely going to be no way for him to avoid death even as is, so it was not completely necessary he supposes.  
  
"Who sent you?"  
  
Still no answer. He kept his gaze to the cold stone floor, nigh unblinking as Corvo's own gaze remained glued to his frame.  
  
"Silence will get you nowhere, Thief." Corvo says firmly. "You have been well enough accommodated thus far, much more attitude from you and that could very well change on a dime."  
  
A very soft breath is very audibly released by the thief. Nothing more.  
  
"So be it." Corvo turns and walks to the wall on the left side of the room where tools were clearly displayed to attempt to instill fear into the prisoner.  
  
If he were being completely honest, he did not care for interrogation and torture. But many of the times a prisoner such as the Master Thief was caught and placed in the prisons, Corvo was reminded by his overactive thought, that another guard could possibly lie about the information they had gained. Could lead the Empress into the eagerly waiting hands of any of the many men that wished day and night for her death.  
  
And perhaps even worse, they could be inexperienced or over-eager, they could incidentally kill the prisoner. And leave him perhaps with even less information than before.  
  
Hovering a hand over the wall, Corvo took a few showmanship-like steps, the thief's eyes discreetly following him from under his furrowed brow. He stopped, boot hitting the stone with a resolute thunk before he took the long whale skin whip from it's hook on the wall, running his hand once over it as he walked back to the thief to insure there were no tears and that the small hard bits on the end had not gone soft in the months of no use.  
  
He stopped behind the thief and spoke once more. "I will ask you once more. Who sent you?"  
  
The thief stiffens and looks over his shoulder, a grimace very clear on his face. "No one who wishes you any sort of harm."  
  
"And I am to take your word for it?"  
  
"Yes." The thief answers.  
  
"I apologize that I must be the one to inform you." Corvo says with what could almost be called a chuckle in his voice. "But your word isn't worth very much."  
  
The thief mutters something and turns away.  
  
"What was that?" Corvo makes sure to angle the whip so it is in the thief's viewpoint.  
  
"It is the one thing I cannot steal." He says once more, albeit much louder.  
  
"So you are not going to comply?" Corvo asks, moving behind the thief and taking the coat by it's lapels to pull it down to his joined wrists.  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
With that, Corvo squares his shoulders, reassures his feets grip on the stone floor, and lets loose the whip in his right hand which curls over the thief's shoulder and leaves what he is sure is a harsh stinging line across his chest.  
  
His action is answered only by a flinch and a sharp intake of breath through grit teeth.  
  
"You have brought all of these punishments upon yourself." Corvo scolds and paces about the chair so he can look the frazzled thief in the eye. "And you have the ability to leaven this one by answering a very simple question. Just a name is needed."  
  
He steps forward to place the end of the whip's stiff handle under the thief's chin to force him to look him in the eye.  
  
The thief's mismatched eyes narrow and he answers with a much more defiant tone. "Bug off."  
  
So Corvo looses the whip once more, and it curls around his collarbone, a small bit striking across his neck.  
  
Normally with a guard or townsman who was here for a punishment, he would avoid the face by a large margin. But this thief... He did not know why, but he found not one bit of him willing to care.  
  
Then he caught his eye once more. Where a deep seated anger sat. And he was suddenly reminded of the young princess Emily. Of the times when he refused vehemently to train her.  
  
It enraged him to no amount that his mind would make that connection especially at a time such as this.  
  
So he loosed the whip twice...three...four times more in rapid succession, only stopping when the whip had curled into the thief's underarm which finally prompted a shout.  
  
Corvo let loose a deep sigh, watching as the thief let his head roll back with his eyes firmly closed. He turned away and reaffirmed his coat's position on his shoulders before replacing the whip and retrieving the keys to the room from their own hook closer to the door.  
  
"I shall return next morn." Corvo says without looking back at the thief. "Let us hope your attitude has changed by then."  
  
And with that, he retrieves the torch from it's scone on the wall and leaves the thief in darkness.

* * *

  
  
Garrett was very good at being in denial. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it helped, sometimes it hurt. Quite literally in this position.  
  
He had never been at the end of a whip before, and just like many other things in his life, he had ignored it until it had actually become a reality. He knew it was very likely they would attempt to get some sort of information out of him.  
  
But he didn't know who had sent the job in to Basso. Normally he wouldn't take a job from an unnamed client, but they had offered an exceptionally large sum.  
  
He had nothing he could possibly give them. Besides the name of Basso himself, and he would sooner die then give out that. The man had been a rock for him to keep hold of in hard times, and was the one who provided him his business.  
  
Garrett owed him this in return at the very least. Hell, he was bound to die either way at this point.

* * *

  
  
There was a crow flying about the courtyard. A bit of a random thing to focus on he supposes. But it didn't make much sense, the more he thought of it. It was nearing winter, and as such most of the birds had gone. And even besides that, there was nothing of real substance in the courtyard for it to pick at.  
  
In the end it didn't matter, though. So he turned and made way for the smaller courtyard that had been sectioned off so Emily could privately complete her training.  
  
Generally he had tried to treat himself the same as any other soldier around her ever since she had started training and coming into herself more. Because it was suspicious and inappropriate for a guard to be spending so much time around the young princess.  
  
If anyone asked, he would inform them that earlier in the day, the Empress had requested he check on Emily's progress. It was not wrong, and it would do well enough to cover his true motive. Which was simply to spend a bit more time with the bright young girl.  
  
He didn't want to bother to attempt to locate the reason as to why he had changed his mind about leaving her to be to focus better for the time being.  
  
Because, after all, she had more than enough time to complete her training. And until then, Corvo would always be there to protect both her and Jessamine.  
  
The session was wrapped up by the time Corvo came up to them. Emily was carefully buffing the nicks out of her wooden training swords when she spotted him and waved. The teacher was packing his own materials into a knapsack. When he too made eye contact with Corvo, he turned to Emily and bid farewell. He had been around long enough to know that the conversations that happened between Corvo and Emily (or Jessamine for that matter) were not for his ears.  
  
"Good evening, Emily." Corvo greeted, sitting down on the ground next to her and biting back the comment that the princess should take better care of her stockings. They were grass stained and smeared with dirt. It had taken a lot of convincing to even allow her to train without her dresses. A princess had a reputation to uphold, after all. "Have you been making good with your training?"  
  
"I have heard only good things." Emily answers cheerfully, that little happy glow in her eyes she gets when she relays good news.  
  
"And what of your classes with Mr. Curnow?" Corvo adds, though he already knows the answer even before Emily puffs out her cheeks with an indignant look.  
  
"They're fine." She answers, looking even more annoyed when Corvo chuckles.  
  
"So what have you gotten to so far? Last I heard you were going to begin work on parrying soon?"  
  
"Aye." Corvo winces a bit at her use of slang. "I've yet to fully master it, but I should think I shall start catching on to it quicker now."  
  
Corvo tilts his head to look back to the young girl. "And why is that?"  
  
She looks up to him as well, equally confused, before she seems to realize something. "Ah yes, I forgot today is Tuesday, I need to be getting to Mr. Curnow's evening lecture."  
  
"Wait-" Corvo begins to say, but she had already shoved the wooden sword into her carrying bag and begun for the door.  
  
"Twas nice to see you, Mr. Corvo." She had the mind to say before she left the room.  
  
Odd.

* * *

  
  
There was something scratching about across the room every now and then. It didn't scare Garrett in the slightest. There was quite a bit of scuttling that occurred back at his home in The City.  
  
But the sound was indeed beginning to get on his nerves. Time after time every two minutes. It would scratch about for a few seconds, pause and repeat. It annoyed him. It was the only sound in the room, and he hated every second of it.  
  
Every now and then he would slam his leg into one of the chair's when the scratching started up. The sound would stop for a moment, then repeat when whatever it was realized that he was unable to harm them.  
  
It was such a petty thing to focus on and be irritated by in this situation that he was nigh upset with himself. He had much better things he should by all means be worrying about.  
  
Like how the hell he would even get out of this chamber. The man who had been watching over him and now torturing him didn't look the fool. Garrett has planned to pretend he was being complacent with his demands. He was going to lie. Tell him a false name and the address of Basso's competing fence.  
  
But Garrett was confident that the guard would know immediately. So he planned to take a bit more. He was not an easy man to break. He could take it.  
  
So he let his head fall onto the back of the chair once more, and thought. Thought about what he would claim his name to be, reciting the other fences name, and imagining to himself how he would state his confessions in the morn.  
  
Twas best to have a plan prepared, after all. Else he might stumble upon his words.

* * *

  
  
The thief was sleeping the next time Corvo opened the door. Quite frankly, it almost looked like he was dead. His head was lolled back, his arms still kept stiff behind his back and his lips slightly parted.  
  
The previous night's activities were marked by bright red welts raised on his chest. Corvo wasn't a particularly sadistic individual, so he had to remind himself that this man was a prisoner for a reason. And who knows what other things he had planned to commit besides the petty theft he already had.  
  
So as he walked past him, Corvo shoved his head off of the back of the chair, the thief jerking about and gasping for a few brief moments before he craned his neck as much as he could to look over at Corvo.  
  
Corvo replaced the torch from the previous night before turning to face the thief. He had such dark bags under his eyes Corvo could likely be convinced he had snuck in some of the kohl he had on his person before his capture.  
  
He kept blinking in an owlish sort of way. Probably trying to clear the remaining blear of sleep out of his eyes. Corvo could still remember the days back when he was in training when he had to do so himself during his early morning shifts. Luckily, ever since his assignment in the dungeons he had had less of that. He only had to wake to feed the prisoners. And it wasn't a big problem if he slept in. Just another part of their punishment.  
  
Honestly, it would almost be cute if Corvo were not as dedicated to his job as he were.  
  
"Are we ready to be a bit more compliant today?" Corvo asks with the same firm voice he would use when he found Emily committing some sort of mischief.  
  
He gave Corvo no answer. Turned away from him and tried to ignore him.  
  
The guardsman just sighed and turned back to the wall that kept the tools. He was not very fond of the more...intricate tools that they kept. Many had not been used in a great while, but the knowledge that the judas cradle that lay unassembled in the corner of the room lay available to him concerned him. He had not shown the best self control in previous times, and he always worried he'd do something he would later regret. Something that would weigh on him for a long time.  
  
"I don't know where exactly you come from, Master Thief." Corvo says, looking over his shoulder to face the thief's flushed face. "But I should think most of these devices purpose is well implied despite and cultural differences we may have."  
  
At that, with the thief's eyes firmly on him, he retrieves the heretics fork. Which he was certain had not been used in quite a bit, as there was rust beginning to sprout upon the handle. He would never use such a thing in this condition. He'd better make it convincing then, so he's not called on his bluff.

* * *

  
  
Garrett didn't get sick very often. It was one of the very few blessings in his life. But it appeared his bad luck had overridden it this time. His heart was pounding, his vision was blurred about the edges and his absolutely burning eyes couldn't focus on a thing. Every breath he took brought about a sharp pain in his chest and made his throat disgustingly hot.  
  
He had noted a shortness of breath when he was first leaving for this job, but had thought nothing of it. He'd had minor breathing problems ever since he was a child and they still came about on certain days. Basso had once suggested it was some disease he'd read about once called asthma. But Garrett had waved it off. It wasn't anything that would hinder his work.  
  
The guard had absolutely stalked over holding a device composed of a small belt and a two pronged double ended device. He motions to his own neck, and suddenly the purpose of it is much too crystal clear.  
  
The belt would fasten around the neck, and the pronged metal would be propped between the neck and chest. Forcing the prisoner's head higher. And with Garrett being the slight man he is, there was no doubt the thing had been designed with larger recipients in mind.  
  
This was one of the reasons he was thankful he normally did not fall ill often. It easily affected the way one looks at things. The guard's gaunt face glaring down at him and the rusty, disgusting metal that very well may soon be pressed to his gullet were absolutely terrifying in this moment. All he felt was panic. His nigh burning limbs were almost trembling. It felt as if he could not control his muscles. He just stared at the device in the guard's hands.  
  
Then he took a step forward, and Garrett flinched harder than he ever had in his life. Why the devil was he so scared of this? He was in control. He wasn't looking at the device anymore, he was staring at the floor once again. The guard took another step.  
  
"Wait." Garrett chokes out, clenching the chair through his still tied together hands. "I..."  
  
The guard stops, and looks at him almost curiously. Then he repeated his question from before. "What is your name?"  
  
His name was common enough. He had met dozens of Garrets and Garretts in his life. There was no harm in telling him this. "Garrett." He grit out, already questioning his decision.  
  
He was a fool. He was an idiot. He was signing his own death warrant.  
  
The guard blinks once, and then abruptly gets a pleased look on his face, though does not make to move the device away from him. "And who sent you?"  
  
He should have figured this would be coming once more. He honestly didn't know what to say. He couldn't name Basso. The man already had problems with the local authorities, to add this on top of it would just insure his death alongside Garrett's. And likely Erin's in kind.  
  
And should he go through with naming the other fence he had had in mind, they would know it had something to do with Basso. He didn't have a good reputation amongst the others. He had played large parts in sabotage before. And he obviously couldn't name the actual man who had hired him.  
  
Although...they had not been provided an actual name. It had been vague enough they would likely not be able to pinpoint the man. "He had signed the paper KD." Garrett eventually admits. "I know nothing more than that."  
  
The pleased expression has been utterly torn from the guard's face. "I don't believe you." He says firmly.  
  
"Believe what you like." Garrett answers, head pounding more with every word he spoke. "But know that lying is one past time I do not partake in."  
  
The guard turns around and slowly paces from side to side, placing the device hardly on the table. Garrett let his head fall lower in relief. His eyes were heavy, and somehow his thoughts seemed to be following in kind. They weren't working like they should. And somehow that made sense to him while also being very clear nonsense.  
  
It didn't matter. He closed his eyes for a moment. He would gather his thoughts as the guard did his.  
  
This was a battle he did not intend to cave to. And whatever the devil was wrong with him was not a disadvantage he was going to let beat him.

* * *

  
  
The thief had fallen asleep in his chair. Well, Corvo supposed passed out would be a better term. His head was hanging low, and he had slumped so far forward it looked as if his arms were dislocating from where they were tied behind the chair.  
  
Corvo took the few steps to the thief's side, and held his hand in front of his fallen face. He was still breathing. Breath that was so hot Corvo almost jerked his hand away.  
  
With a scoff, he turned to the door. Wonderful. He had no idea what was wrong with him, but Corvo still hadn't gotten the information he needed. Couldn't just let the man deal with whatever this illness is that he'd contracted.  
  
Opening the door and taking a single step out, he motions to the guard down the hall. "Have the maids prepare the unused room across the hall from my own, will you?" The guard nods and leaves.  
  
The room had belonged to another guard who had previously watched the jails alongside him. It had not been used in several years, but all the rooms near the jails had heavy duty locks on them. And with Corvo across the hall, he was confident he would not be able to escape. While also recovering enough to not pass out from these sessions.  
  
After insuring that everything was put back in it's place, Corvo returned to the thief's side and once more placed his hand in front of the prisoner's mouth. His hot breaths were deep and even. And there wasn't any of the twitchiness that he had displayed before. Corvo had dealt with many a man with the same attitude as he. It was a thing that near never left them. With how limp and unresponsive he was...well, something had to be very very wrong.  
  
So the guard fairly quickly removed the thief's bindings from the chair and rather easily hoisted him up onto one of his shoulders. He was very light for a man of his age. (Which Corvo didn't know, but could assume from the shallow wrinkles on his face) so it was not an act that required an immense amount of effort.  
  
He would easily be able to carry him to the room naught but two halls down. He was a fit enough gentleman. Though not quite so much as some of the more extremely dedicated knights and guards that occupy the castle.  
  
"Sir?" A red headed maid asks, meeting his gaze from across the bend he was just about to turn. "We've put in new bedding and stoked the hearth. Should you need anything else, feel free to ask."  
  
"I will." Corvo answers, nodding in her direction as he walks past her- not missing how her eyes caught on the welts on the thief's currently bare back. "Thank you. And please fetch a doctor while you return." The maids quarters were located next to the medical wing. She would likely pass by it almost immediately.  
  
The maid agrees and rushes off as Corvo enters the recently cleaned room, a wave of nostalgia hitting him. He had not been in this room in months.  
  
But that was not important. He turned and walked to the bed that sat along the west most wall and realized he had made a grave error. There was a window in this room. It was about forty five feet above the ground (The jailkeepers quarters sat above the jails, which were in themselves, multilayered cells upon the walls, with the isolation chambers on the bottom) and to be completely honest, he could not see a sick man thinking it were a good idea to jump from it. Still. It had a lock and key on it. Maybe that would discourage him a bit more.  
  
So Corvo sat the thief on the bed and made sure to tug the heavy bedding over him. He was sick after all. Couldn't have him just wasting away in here when there were questions still to be answered. A moment after, he locked the window, added the key that sat on the hook by the windowsill to his keychain, made sure there were no lethal objects in the room, (You never know what a man might do when he is not in his right mind) and left the room to stand in the hallway to await the doctor that would be sent.  
  
A dozen or so contemplative minutes later saw Corvo leaning on the wall outside of the room. He couldn't shake the feeling that stuck deep in his chest.  
  
The image of the thief sitting unconscious in the torture chair with wounds spotting his tiny frames wouldn't leave his mind. He...felt bad. The thief was a prisoner. He shouldn't feel bad about anything that happened to him.  
  
But there was just...something in him that only saw a sick man that he had harmed incidentally. He almost didn't see the thief...he just saw Garrett. A man he knew nothing about that was very suddenly much more of a person then Corvo saw him as before.  
  
He would almost be upset at his change of opinion, were he a more petty man.  
  
"Ah, Corvo." Sokolov suddenly greets as he turns the corner leading to the room with a white bag of gods know what inside. "You're still here?"  
  
Corvo screws up his face a bit. "Why have you come? I meant for just a medician."  
  
"I was in the room when the maid passed by." He waves Corvo off and moves to enter the room. "This seemed to be a matter that would require a bit of...subtlety."  
  
He looks over to Corvo who was now thoroughly confused. "Don't want a worker to spread rumours about how Sir Attano beat the Master Thief to near death."  
  
Corvo scoffs and follows the doctor into the room. "That's not what happened."  
  
Sokolov waves him off once again to Corvo's ire. "I figured. But you know how they talk."  
  
He did indeed know. Several years back, when he had been having secret relations with Jessamine, he would sneak from the barracks late at night. There had been dozens of rumours that had been from such. But Corvo didn't regret it in the slightest, even though some of those rumours lived on to this day. For it had resulted in him becoming a better man, and had certainly helped him further progress his sneaking abilities. As well as the birth of Emily, who he would never be able to claim as his daughter, but loved nonetheless.  
  
She was perhaps, the greatest blessing of all.  
  
"Corvo." Sokolov motions him over to the same place where he had pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. Garrett was still unmoving besides the constant shivers that were wracking his sweaty body and the uneven breaths he took. As Corvo walked over, the doctor continued. "It appears to be pneumonia. Likely already caught before he arrived here.  
  
They share a knowing glance, and the doctor quickly continues. "I suppose he's lucky he got caught. He would have definitely passed, had you not brought this to my attention, but still." Sokolov stands and rifles through the bag he brought before bringing out a notepad and a quill and ink. "This is not good at all. The Empress has yet to deliberate, and the people will be wanting justice."  
  
Corvo nods his agreement. "It will not do to tell them he passed of an illness. Besides, my work is not yet done."  
  
"Yes, you're going to have to hold off on that for the time being." Sokolov almost scolds. "I'll not have a patient of mine be on the receiving end of your dungeons filthy tools, even if he is a thief."  
  
With a bemused chuckle, Corvo agrees. He had not planned anything of the sort. At the first sight of Garrett's red sweat soaked face, all thoughts of doing so had left his mind. Perhaps later, but for now he would see if the thief weren't more compliable in his illness.  
  
Perhaps it was a bit of a dirty tactic, but it surely was preferable to torture.  
  
"Very well." Sokolov says, marking the point on his notepad. "I'll return shortly with medication. I should like to discuss things further with you in the meantime."  
  
"Of course." Corvo answers, following the doctors lead back to the hall, locking the door behind them. "What did you need?"  
  
"As you are well aware, pneumonia is a very serious illness. About 7 in 10 patients pass from it, even with the proper medication." Sokolov begins as they start on their way to the medical room, both of their expressions grim. "And so we do not care to leave the patients alone during the night, whenever they are not awake is preferable. I shall not subject a maid or one of my men to staying in a room with that scoundrel. And I have had concerns about the corruption in the guards ranks for a while now."  
  
"You've no need to worry." Corvo answers. "I'll be across the hall from him."  
  
"Not good enough." Sokolov shakes his head. "Pneumonia is an illness that involves fluid buildup in the lungs. He can easily die silently in his sleep."  
  
He was certainly not happy about it...but he understood the reason behind such. He was the man in charge of the thief's care to begin with. It made sense to him. "...Very well."  
  
"Good." Sokolov nods with a satisfied look on his face. "I'll leave you to it and return shortly."

* * *

  
  
The entire world seemed to be covered by a red hot cloud. Garrett's muscles all felt as if they had been disconnected from whatever it was that moved them. They were weights that did naught but trap him in this fiery cocoon.  
  
And he couldn't stop shivering, even as his skin seemed to be pouring out sweat. He couldn't focus on anything. Just the feeling of something shifting and aching in his chest with each breath he took. He knew he must still be in the castle. A prisoner, but at the time, he didn't care. He just didn't want to move. Not now, and not ever again. He wanted to sleep.  
  
Then the door opened, and so did Garrett's eyes, watching the bearded man enter the room with a large white bag by his side. He paused for a moment, then continued to his side. "Good afternoon, Thief, I am doctor Sokolov, and I will be in charge of your recovery."  
  
He felt like he was drowning in his throat but he still managed to choke out a sentence. "What is it...?"  
  
The doctor takes a moment to turn to the table by the side of the bed and begins unpacking some items before he answers. "Pneumonia. I have some medicine here to begin your treatment."  
  
Garrett said nothing as he continued to organize a bit before taking the towel he had set aside and placing it on Garrett's forehead. "It will help your head."  
  
The thief was almost tempted to tear it from, but he felt he did not even have enough strength to do that. Besides, whatever cool liquid it was soaked in quite frankly felt amazing against his head. So for the moment he convinced himself to quiet down his spiteful nature.  
  
After a few moments, he shoves a lidded bottle at Garrett who stares at it for a moment before snaking an arm out to take it.  
  
"Sit up." The doctor interrupts, then continues as Garrett complies. "It's just a bit of quinine for now. There aren't many treatments now, so we shall continue this, the honeyed towels, and you will be given tea with each meal. Should they not work, we shall consider bloodletting."  
  
Garrett nods once he's finally sitting and handed the cup. He had engaged in the act once or twice before when he had suspected a serious illness.  
  
The doctor continued meandering about for a few minutes as Garrett drank the chalky beverage. When he finished whatever it was he was doing, he returned to Garrett's side and took the cup, returning it to the side table. "Sir Attano is going to be watching you for the time being, anything you need, you are to ask of him."  
  
And with that said, he left, leaving Garrett with his thoughts once more. Which were nothing but a muddled mess. He had no idea who this Attano was, and so he did not think on it for long.  
  
And he wasn't sure he had it in him to think on anything else, as it always circled back to his hopeless situation. So he just laid his head back down and closed his eyes to the almost burningly bright torches that lay lit about the room.

* * *

  
  
Corvo had stopped in his own quarters . To retrieve the old bed roll from his soldier days, a cloth mask, and some firewood for the hearth. As well as making a stop to inform Jessamine of the situation.  
  
She had not added much besides telling him to be careful. There was an odd amount of procrastination she was indulging in with this case.  
  
Of course, she was free to do as she pleased, but Corvo was also allowed to view her actions with a healthy bit of skepticism considering the position he held. However, it would remain unvoiced out of his respect for her.  
  
At his entering of the room, the thief made no move from where his prone form lay on the bed. The pitcher lay on the table where Sokolov had informed him it would be. With him being responsible for the health of the men in his prison, he was to care for Garrett for at least a bit while he lay sick. With how Sokolov was talking, it didn't seem like he had much of a chance of living through this.  
  
Corvo almost felt bad for bad for him...He wasn't sure what he would do if he were faced with a deadly illness with the outcome of his being cured only leading to his execution. He would be having an absolute crisis of self. He would quite frankly give up.  
  
But, he had to remind himself, the man was a thief. A criminal. And he had certainly had naught but ill intentions in coming here.  
  
After setting his bedding down along the wall by the door, he retrieved the firewood from the hallway where he had set it, locking the door behind him and placing the keys on the chain along his lapel.  
  
Dunwall had always been a country with weather more on the extreme sides. Very warm summers and very cold winters. Even should the thief not be ill, it was a routine that he followed every night in his own quarters in a vain attempt to stave off the cold.  
  
But it had indeed been another directive from Sokolov, to keep the room as warm as he could throughout the day. Along with giving him a mask and telling him to wear it at all times. Which he had tied about his jaw at this moment. It had not been uncomfortable as of yet, but he suspected as the room warmed it would likely become much too...sauna like for his liking.  
  
At a brief shifting behind him, Corvo whips his head around to look at the thief, who had his eyes open ever so slightly to watch him from where he lay on his side.  
  
They meet each others gaze for a brief moment before Corvo retrieves the matches he carried on his belt and a bit of tinder from beside the fireplace. Every room carried a bit, and the maid must have refilled this one upon prepping the room.  
  
After two brief attempts at starting the fire, a small amount of smoke filters through the chimney, and Corvo turns back to where he had placed his bedding and heavily sits down. It had been a long day, and it was good to finally be able to rest his feet. Even though there was still a large amount of tenseness in his body as he meets the thief's gaze for another moment before he turns away once more.  
  
"I am going to retire for the evening." He says, still turned away from the other man. "Should you feel your condition is worsening, do not hesitate to wake me."  
  
He was unsure how much sleep he would get tonight. He had always been a heavy sleeper, but he figured with the thief's condition being what it was, he was not like to attempt any type of escape tonight. It would spell much more certain and imminent death than staying in Corvo's custody would.  
  
So he fluffed his small pillow for a moment, removed his outer wear, and laid down with his back to the thief.

* * *

  
  
Garrett couldn't fall back asleep. He supposed it had something to do with his sleeping through what seemed to be the entire day. But it was the only thing he wished to do, as everything hurt, and had seemingly worsened over his rest. The rag upon his forehead was now lukewarm, and the pitcher of water was looking very attractive at the moment.  
  
But what is this were how they put down their prisoners? He liked to think he was good at identifying poison tells, but there were exceptions such as arsenic. Which was odorless, tasteless and dissolvable.  
  
Perhaps he would hold off on it. They were bound to refill it at some point. He would keep an eye on how they acted around that time.  
  
Out of desperation and boredom, Garrett closed his eyes once more. He was almost glad he was so ill, as were he in good health, he would be unbearably twitchy.  
  
Then there was a soft tapping at the window. Garrett quickly turned to the guard, who shifted a bit, but did not get up.  
  
He then turned to the window, where a raven was cocking it's head every which way and looking directly at him with oddly familiar eyes. "Jenivere?" He whispers out of habit, glancing again and gladly noting that the guard remained asleep.  
  
He lifted the large blankets from his form, briefly considered whether or not leaving the warmth of the comfortable bed behind was worth it before making his way to the window, and noting with a grimace that it was locked.  
  
A shocking flash of terror rushed through his body, and he looked over to the guard once more before glancing about the room for any small object as Jenivere tapped the window once more. He shoots her a look, before softly padding around the room. The lock would be a simple thing if he had his tools, or even a knife. But there was no doubt in his mind that they would have berid of any such item.  
  
There was a painting up on the wall held in by a nail. But it would be much too thick for the opening of the lock. A small bit of the floorboard was splintered up. But he would be much too wary of waking the guard to consider that. He likely had the keys on his person, but he was doubtful of his abilities to pickpocket an alert man while deathly ill.  
  
Then a tiny muted gleam caught his eye inbetween the broken floorboard and the next. He gently kneeled to the ground and looked closer to find a large bobby pin wedged into the broken floorboard. He wedges a single finger into the floorboard and slowly inches the pin to him, still repeatedly glancing at the guard. He remained still.  
  
Garrett swallows a cough and returns to the window, making quick work of the lock. He had used to use bobby pins when he was a child, so he was well practiced with them.  
  
Jenivere shakes off a bit and drops a small parchment before flying in and landing on a bedpost. Garrett's lungs almost hitch into his throat and he near lets out the cough he had previously swallowed. He had to finish this quick before he had a heart attack.  
  
Unfolding the paper, he's met with two sentences.

_ We're coming. Be there in three weeks._  
  
It was Erin's handwriting. The City was a long way away, it would have taken Jenivere several days to reach, and it would take them even longer, as they would be coming by boat.  
  
Jenivere was waiting for a reply (and probably bread). Garrett's mind goes back to the nail in the wall. He wouldn't be able to find a quill and ink. He would use the charcoal from the scorched wood, but there currently sat a fire atop it. And who knows whether or not it would remain through the trip. If it rained, it would be done for. Even the wind might do it in.  
  
A few brief moments, and Garrett had gently pried the nail from the wall and placed the painting quietly on the ground. Taking a deep, dizzying breath, Garrett rolled down the waist of his pants and quickly poked the nail into his thigh. Luckily, the breath he gasped was silent.  
  
He took the paper and wrote only one word. "NO" After which he returned it to Jenivere who puffed up a bit in indignance at not being fed before taking off.  
  
Garrett closed the window once more, reset the lock, and returned to the much too comfortable bed, firmly ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg. He was not a fool, should he have the wound on his hands or arms, they would notice immediately. He couldn't have that.  
  
They would know they were coming. At least...they would know someone was coming.

* * *

  
  
The guard was sleeping beside him. Garrett didn't know why, but he thought absolutely nothing of it. The guard's chiseled face lay so softly beside him, and in a weirdly hazy amount of thoughts, Garrett realized he wanted nothing more than to be held by the other man. His arms looked so strong now that they lay bare.  
  
But instead he yawned and stood, looking to the brightly lit room around him. Normally it would unnerve him, but for now it was nothing but comforting. There was a hanging plant in front of the large window that lay covered along the eastern wall.  
  
Garrett was in his leather armour. He hadn't been before, but he was now. And he was leaving the room to walk through the lovely oak hallway. There were familiar voices coming from the kitchen. He didn't know how he knew it was the kitchen, but it was. And when he entered, he was met with Basso and Jenivere having a light conversation over tea.  
  
"Ah, morning, G." Basso greeted. Jenivere ignored him and kept chatting. He knew why. It was because he hadn't fed her when she had delivered the letter.  
  
The guard turned from where he stood cooking something that smelled way too familiar over a cast iron stove. He smiled wide and walked over. He was still naked, but no one said anything. "Morning Garrett."  
  
He kissed the top of his head and squeezed his shoulder lightly. He had a plate of something in his hands suddenly and led Garrett to the table where Basso and Jenivere were sitting before setting it in the middle and sitting next to Garrett with a cup of coffee.  
  
On the plate was a small pile of pastries. He had never been able to learn the name of them, but they looked strikingly similar to the treats the nuns at the orphanage used to make every Saturday. He had left when he was nine, but still had some very fond memories sprinkled in with the bad.  
  
But the smell was what was most familiar. The semi-sweet flakey dough along with the soft pecan filling. But when he turned away, he was met with the furious face of Erin.  
  
It was the same face she had made that day...the day they had decided to go their seperate ways. When they agreed to never work together again.  
  
Only it was the guard this time. And his robust face was twisted strongly with disgust as rain fell from the cloudy skies of the City. "Calm down, Geoffrey." Garrett said. The guard's name was Geoffrey, and he knew it in that moment.  
  
"Calm down?!" Geoffrey roared at him. His voice cracked with the force of the thunder that struck above them. "I will not calm down you horrid bastard."  
  
With that, he shoved Garrett from the building, hand pushing his arm hard and Garrett suddenly started choking and coughing. Geoffrey was still yelling at him but he couldn't make out the words as they were drowned out by his own voice.  
  
He closed his eyes and cried in his hopelessness. A strong hand made of ice had a firm grip around his heart and he couldn't breathe.  
  
Then he landed, but the only thing that happened was that he sat up. And was met with the wide open brown eyes of Geoffrey.  
  
"...Garrett...?" He asked, a strangely sincere amount of concern on his face.  
  
Garrett didn't answer, he just coughed once more as a strange pressure kept in his throat and a bit of something dribbled from his mouth.  
  
Geoffrey started, reaffirmed his mask he wore, and walked over to his coat that was hung up on a wall.  
  
He made to hand Garrett a handkerchief, but Garrett just continued his fit, for a moment his body jerked forward, but Geoffrey quickly straightened his back and, with a gloved hand, wiped whatever liquid it was that had dripped down his chin, and held the kerchief to Garrett's mouth. It was only then that Garrett took the cloth and held it in a shaky hand.  
  
Geoffrey moved off to do something, and Garrett just looked about for a moment. The fire had nigh completely gone out, leaving the room much more frigid and dark. But to Garrett's sickly hot skin, it felt nothing but comforting.  
  
Almost ten minutes later, Geoffrey walked back into the room through the door Garrett hadn't even seen him leave through. He was carrying a teapot and three cups. He set them down on the table, spooned something from the third cup into the other two, poured from the teapot, stirred, and dragged a chair over to the side of the bed before handing Garrett a cup.  
  
For a brief moment, Garrett was suspicious of the lovely smelling liquid, but then Geoffrey sat beside him in the chair and sipped. So Garrett himself blew on the tea briefly, even though he was sure his breath was fire hot. He didn't know what kind of tea it was, something from Dunwall he had never heard of before. But he liked it.  
  
Glancing over, he was reminded of his dream. The guard really didn't look like a Geoffrey. It didn't fit him. Before he could stop himself, Garrett was croaking out a question "What..." The guard looked to him curiously. "What is your name?"  
  
It looked like he was considering something for a bit before he answered. "Corvo Attano."  
  
That was a pretty name. Fit him perfectly. To a t.  
  
"Corvo." Garrett mutters, looking briefly to his drink. "I'm Garrett."  
  
At that, a lovely little smile graces Corvo's lips. It spread to his eyes beautifully naturally. "I know."

* * *

  
  
Corvo had come across a problem. And it only hit him when he awoke the next morning and glanced over to Garrett to insure that he had made it through the night. His small form buried under the quilt still gently rose and fell.  
  
That problem being that he...liked him. He was interesting. A thief, and yet he still had his charming bit of personality to him. While also having an incredibly distrusting and wary attitude in regards to seemingly everything.  
  
He had to remind himself...he was a criminal. He likely had all manor of horrifying plans for gods know what. But at the same time, Corvo couldn't see him committing a horrendous act as such. Perhaps he was being presumptuous. He had certainly done so before, more times that he would like to admit.  
  
But he had done enough thinking. Despite his new responsibility to care for Garrett, he still had duties around the castle. He had to supervise the changing of shifts in the jail block, and was to speak with Piero about an incoming weapon shipment. As well as report Garrett's health to Sokolov.  
  
He could not do much yet. It was still a bit early. So he made his way to re-start the fire. Somehow, a nail must have come loose during the night, as a painting had fallen to the ground. Luckily it hadn't cracked, and after the fire was softly crackling in the background, Corvo kneeled and searched for wherever the nail had fallen. He didn't want anyone to step on it.  
  
Somehow, it had rolled to near the window. There must be a stronger draft then he had thought.  
  
He'd have to fetch a hammer from Piero when they spoke. So with that thought, Corvo retrieved his coat from where it hung on a hook on the wall and slipped the nail into his pocket along with his keys as he left the room, making sure to firmly lock it behind him and starting towards the jail cells.

* * *

  
  
Garrett jerked awake the very moment he heard the door lock. It had become such a familiar sound in the week he had been rooming here that the sound apparently was enough to wake him. His headache remained, and the pressure in his throat had yet to be relieved. Everything was still in the strange almost tunnel vision. But, perhaps it had been the rest, but it had seemed to have almost...receded a bit.  
  
The fire had been reignited, though the room was still chilly around him. Corvo must have not awoken much earlier. He was sure the man had duties to attend to. So Garrett, despite his body's protests swung his legs out of the bed.  
  
He was unsure what he was going to do, but he felt he had to do...something. His nerves were fraying more and more with each time he awoke. He slowly paced back and forth near the window, fiddling with a loose thread on his frayed sleeves.  
  
He had to find a way out of here. Out of his desperation for something to happen, Garrett takes the bobby pin from last night off of the hem of his pants. He hadn't been paying attention last night...he didn't know what floor they were on...  
  
The guards would be about now. But perhaps at night...well, they would certainly be about even then, but Garrett was confident that he would be able to pass them with ease, even with him being ill.  
  
Briefly, he realized that he likely would die without the treatment they had been providing him, but...well, he was never known to be very trusting. And this situation was no exception. They had nothing that was making them keep him alive. So there was nothing to stop them from killing him.  
  
So he gently cracked open the window the moment the bobby pin pressed into the tumblers, only to stop the moment the freezing wind softly pressed in. And along with it, came the sound of two nigh whispering voices. Briefly, Garrett notes that they're sitting pretty about twenty feet from ground level.  
  
"They've been directed then?" The gruff voice asks.  
  
"Aye. They've all been informed of their part. Well, I suppose lack of would be a better way to say it." The slightly higher one answers.  
  
There's a brief pause which Garrett takes to glance at the door once more. He'd like hear the door being unlocked a bit before it opened. And it was not as if he were not allowed to stand.  
  
"Indeed." The other voice finally answers. "I shall be in the hallway as per our plan."  
  
"Good." The higher one agrees. "I shall look forward to seeing the Empress's head on a pike come morn."  
  
Garrett draws in a deep breath through his teeth. He hated killings...it had been one of the reasons for his falling out with Erin. Even when it was an Empress who was assuredly spoiled beyond all means and would be enthusiastically watching his feet swing within a fortnight.  
  
But he still would not stand for this. Not if he had the knowledge to stop it. For a brief moment before he closed the window, the sound of the gruff voiced one loudly berating the other drifted through it.  
  
Garrett didn't want this. He didn't want all these responsibilities forced onto his shoulders. They were like too gaunt to hold much more than they were now. These types of changes...they terrified him. Much more than any mission ever had.  
  
Because if he didn't do this completely right, he'd have the blood he'd never wanted splattered all over his hands.  
  
But he had nothing to do...he'd have to leave it to the guard...there was a very slim chance he would believe him in the first place, but Garrett wasn't about to risk his life to help the Empress. If she died after he warned them, it would only be Corvo's fault.  
  
Still, Garrett sighed and sat back down, placing an elbow on his knee and holding his head in his hands. It felt like the whole room was spinning around him, and there was a horrible pressure sitting on each of his temples.  
  
He hated this. Garrett had never been good with change, and this was no different. Now that he was forcibly trapped in a new place with no option to remove himself, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to go home. Even though the clocktower he had hunkered down in was hardly what he would consider his home. It still was no small amount of comfort to him to be there. Even if he tried to remind himself that even there he was not safe. Even if this bed were 100 times better than the pile of hay and sheets he slept on there that destroyed his back.  
  
He didn't want to be here, simple as that. And he wanted to be able to speak to Basso and Erin again. But he didn't want them to come here. They couldn't. Erin had always been the one to be found more often on their outings, and he couldn't see Basso sneaking about anywhere.  
  
Not to mention Erin's more and more common pension for taking lives. It troubled Garrett. Especially the thought of Corvo being attacked by her out of the blue. And it was not as if Garrett doubted his combat prowess,but when a man is caught off guards...combat prowess doesn't matter.  
  
But perhaps more troubling was the fact that Corvo's safety had come to mind before Erin's.  
  
Why?

* * *

  
  
Almost a week had passed, and Corvo's schedule had remained remarkably unchanged, with the only exception being his sleeping in a different room. And he remained in a strangely good mood for the most part.  
  
However.  
  
Corvo's mild mood had very quickly soured over the course of the day. The guard who had worked through the night had certainly not been happy about it. As the guard who had been originally scheduled had a family emergency and had to leave. So this man, who had a family to return to had had to cover for him. It was entirely understandable, and Corvo would have offered to cover instead in any other circumstances. And the guard knew that. And yet he still had that irritating tone to his voice.  
  
But he was a pretty mild-mannered man in general, and that itself was not what had set Corvo off. It was events that preceded it. Where Daud, a man he had never been on good terms with to begin with, had literally slammed into him on Corvo's way to the gardens. He had planned to meet Emily after her morning classes and escort her to the training grounds, but Daud had had more than a few irate words to share with him. And so by the time Corvo had managed to excuse himself, Emily had already started her session. Given her short attention span, Corvo didn't want to interrupt.  
  
So he went about the rest of the day. Did a brief check-up with the rest of the jail cells to insure there was nothing damaged he hadn't been informed of, as well as to insure there had been no more thefts involving the jail's storerooms. Which happened more often than one would think.  
  
And he found not the lock picked, but the handle pried and broken. So he had to quickly deal with that and do some investigations into what moron had stolen handcuffs from the room. Unfortunately, he had come up completely empty, and no one seemed to have a clue as well.  
  
Oh, and he couldn't forget the best part, where he normally looked forward to being able to sit around and not do much for a bit was now interrupted by the obnoxious thief who was likely going to just sit there. Followed by a very unrestful sleep where his own tenseness woke him up every hour.  
  
So when he walked into the room and found Garrett sitting straight up and staring at him with those owlish eyes, it just fueled his annoyance.  
  
"Corvo."  
  
And now he was calling him by his first name, was he? "That's General Attano to you, thief." He responds.  
  
Garrett reaffirms his previous stare, and continues. "Corvo. There's a plan going, to assasinate the Empress. Two men were discussing-"  
  
"Oh." Corvo answers, stalking over a bit and leaning over the bed a bit. "And is this your confession? Finally coming out with the truth?"  
  
The thief immediately scrambles from under the enormous covers and puts himself in a very defensive stance. "In the courtyard beneath the window." He sttempts to contine, only for Corvo to walk about to the other side of the bed quickly, Garrett shrinking back a bit.  
  
"Excuse me if I don't take the slanderous words of a thief to heart." Corvo answers. At that, Garrett;s flushed face gets an indignant look to it. "I believe I have all the evidence I need."  
  
If he were not so irate, he would recognize that Jessamine would not just take his word and no evidence to condemn this man. No matter how much she trusted him, she valued physical evidence above all else.  
  
But he was that irate, and he didn't think of it that deeply at the moment. He just turned away and made for the door.  
  
Then Garrett's still filthy hand snagged Corvo's wrist and the thief huffed for a moment before speaking once more. "I do not wish to see anyone pass this night."  
  
Corvo looked over his shoulders and looked directly into Garrett's eyes. "Do not lie to me."  
  
With that, he yanked his hand from the thief's grasp and left the room, making sure to very loudly lock the door behind him.  
  
However, upon making it about halfway to Jessamine's quarters, several things rose to his mind. The first being that it would be incredibly rude to interrupt her with it being the time it was.  
  
The second being that Sokolov had said that one of the symptoms of Garrett's sickness as it were was a potential blending of dream and reality. Perhaps he was under the impression he was still dreaming.  
  
The third was the papers Corvo had been handed upon first taking Garrett into the cells. He had not read it all, as most of it was redundant assumptions as they had very little actual information on him. But the one thing that had stuck out to him was the claim on the first page that said there were no proven deaths as a result of Garrett's actions. Corvo had scoffed and written it up to him being good at hiding them at the time, but after the...conversations they had had, he found he was a bit more compliant in believing that.  
  
So he paused for a moment and thought. About why he had been so curt with the very sick man,and what he thought of the situation. After which he decided that despite the time, he wished to speak to Jessamine further on the matter.She had always been the one better suited to thinking of the two of them.  
  
However, upon rounding the corner, he heard something he had utterly not expected. That being the hushed whispers of very familiar voices. At that, an icy hand seemed to grip Corvo's heart to stop it from beating as he looked carefully around the corner.  
  
Where three dark, masked figures were huddles by the door Corvo had so often gone through. Jessamine's door.  
  
Then his eyes were drawn to the sword on the side of the taller of the three. Where a well known machete sat. The criss cross pattern that very faintly showed through the light of a single lit torch in the hall was much too familiar.  
  
And so, with the sound of the door opening speeding him along, Corvo essentially threw himself into the hallway much faster than he had ever moved in his life.  
  
"Daud!"  
  
All three of the masked men whipped around so fast Corvo was sure they were going to have whiplash come tomorrow. However, Daud very quickly turned to the other two. "Keep going you imbeciles!" He shouted, though it somehow still remained a whisper in it's loudness.  
  
The moment Corvo came within a meter of Daud, the man drew and leveled his blade in Corvo's direction. He said absolutely nothing, and even his steely eyes were hardly visible through the mask he wore.  
  
Corvo quickly repeated the motion, drawing the blade he had luckily not had the time to remove from his belt. "Step down."  
  
Daud quickly scoffs. "You know me, Corvo. This plan has been put into motion years ago." He widens his stance a bit and glares at his opponent much harder then prior. "And I must say, I am very glad you've shown your ridiculous face here. I've been wanting to berid of you for a very...very long time."  
  
A loud thump sounds from Jessamine's room and a very feminine shout.  
  
"Move!" Corvo all but screams, shoving past Daud and firmly ignoring the hard burn of a sword cutting through his achilles like butter the moment before he enters the room. "GUARDS!" He shouts once, a hard vocal crack appearing in his desperation to be as loud as possible.  
  
Jessamine was behind the dresser she had knocked over in an attempt ro stop the two men. They had quickly gone around, and now one of them held her arm in their firm grip, glancing only briefly to Corvo before raising and quickly dropping his blade.  
  
Without thinking, Corvo made a mad dash across the room, jumping over the bed and falling onto the dresser, desperately raising his hand and swinging out his own sword in the vague direction of the other man.  
  
The room was met with dual shouts as the masked man's now wounded legs buckled and he fell against the bedframe. Corvo managed to catch the sword unfortunately by the blade, the instinctive grip he he grabbed it with only further wounding him.  
  
With a pained huff, he tossed it into the corner of the room. Daud had hardly entered the room before a fierce shout sounded from the end of the hallway. "HALT!"  
  
Daud glanced around for a brief moment and, not even speaking a word to his companions, turned and fled the room while returning the blade to his belt. The other two quickly followed.  
  
When the guard passed the room, he glanced in, a very concerned and confused look on his face.  
  
"After them!" Corvo shouts, flinging his uninjured arm in the direction they ran. The guard nodded and complied without a word.  
  
A few short minutes passed, only the sound of Corvo and Jessamine's heavy breaths filling the room.  
  
Eventually, Jessamine took Corvo by the hand and sat them both on the unobstructed side of the bed, before taking his wounded hand for a few moments, reminding Corvo a bit too much of when they used to be an item.  
  
It had ended on a positive note, with both of them agreeing that it had been a flight of fancy of two young people who spent a bit too much time together. But Corvo still missed having someone most days. And almost losing someone he still cared about so much seemed to bring it back up.  
  
Finally, Corvo broke the tense silence. "Shall I escort you to Sokolov, my lady?"  
  
Jessamine chuckles, but it still sounded nervous and unsure. "I believe you're the one who more needs escorting, Corvo."  
  
So Corvo retrieved his blade once more, gladly noting that the guards had been woken, and now there were dozens rushing about. It seemed Corvo would not need the blade after all.  
  
Only when they were halfway to the medical ward did either of them speak.  
  
"Thank you for coming to my aid." Jessamine said, her voice a bit calmer.  
  
"Of course. Corvo responded, refusing to look at her a bit awkwardly. "I'm very glad you're okay Jesse...but...I think there's something you should know..."  
  
Jessamine looks up to his face with a skeptically arched brow. "Yes...?"  
  
A few moments, and Corvo finally locked eyes with her. "It was the thief who informed me of this plan."  
  
She blinks, and crosses her arms, pausing in front of the door to the medical ward. "I see...I suppose it's time I meet this thief in person." As she opens the door, she continues. "I should like you to escort me to him after this."

* * *

  
  
Upon opening the door, Corvo was struck with familiarity as Garrett dove up from the bed, crouching defensively before quickly coughing into hsi arm.  
  
At least he had the decency to cover his coughs.  
  
Jessamine watched with an oddly concerned look in her eyes. She likely was worried the man responsible for her continued living was still so deverly ill.  
  
All the while he continued to look at Jessamine with those owlish eyes that now seemed so much less anoying and more cute.  
  
Corvo refused to wonder why that was the first word that came to mind.  
  
There were a few tense silent moments before Jessamine spoke over Garrett's still rattling breaths. "I believe I owe you a thank you...Garrett."  
  
Garrett glanced to Corvo with an almost betrayed look on his face before returning his gaze to Jessamine. He didn't say anything for a long time despite the Empress's expectant look. "Uh...no problem."  
  
Jessamine chuckles on one single time before Jessamine turning back to Corvo who was now discreetly leaning on a set of drawers to take pressure off his injured leg. "I thank both of you for your contribution in the foiling of tonight's plan."  
  
Corvo respectfully bowed a smidge. Garrett backed up a bit more into the shadows that inhabited the corners of the room. The Empress glanced between the two of them. "I shall speak with you more tomorrow, Corvo."  
  
So, after confirming that there were guards posted outside of her quarters, Jessamine left Corvo and Garrett alone.  
  
"Garrett." Corvo said, limping about the bed to where Garrett still crouched. "I'm sorry. For what I said before.  
  
Garrett waves him off, turning from Corvo to walk closer to where the hardly lit remains of the previous fire sat in the hearth.  
  
Corvo is unsure what compelled him forward, and once again ignored it. Something that had oddly become more often in the past week or so. The two men shared a glance before Garrett moved to sit.  
  
Halfway through the motion, Corvo continues, and wrapped his arms awkwardly aroung the gaunt shoulders of the thief, not missing the almost full body lurch that was the thief's flinch. He remained completely tense and motionless."Thank you." Corvo says, leaning and resting his head on the other man's upper back. Garrett flinched again. "Jessamine is very important to me...and it is only because of you she still stands."  
  
"She's important to you..." Garrett says, not moving to get free from Corvo's grip.  
  
"We trained together." Corvo elaborates. There was no harm in telling him this. It was fairly common knowledge. "She's my best friend.  
  
Garrett hummed and they simply stood there for a moment. "I hate to be making requests..." Garrett pauses, then motions to the hearth. "But you're to only one with flint and steel here."  
  
"Ah, yes." And with that, Corvo freed him from his grasp. "Of course."  
  
The thief took a step to the side and crossed his arms, watching as Corvo took the striker from his pocket and slowly re-lit the fire before dumping a small bit more tinder and a log or two.  
  
Afterwards, he glanced to Garrett briefly before walking over to his bed and finally removing his sword from his waist and placing it where it had rested the past few days a couple of feet from where his head rested.  
  
Eventually, Garrett was reminded of his own weak legs and slowly sat in the very comfortable chair by the hearth, watching the flame burn away as Corvo continued to make himself comfortable.  
  
Garrett was almost concerned. Mere hours ago, this man who was now smiling and relaxed had been threatening him with what would essentially be his death.  
  
It left him with a bad taste in his mouth. This Corvo, he was taking this all much too lightly. He was a fool. And idiot. Who for some reason now thought that Garrett could not possibly pose a threat to him. And it was not as if he had any plan involving aforementioned harm, but there was no way for Corvo to know that.  
  
Then the fool removed that ridiculously huge coat and waltzed back over to the hearth, sitting down a few short feet from Garrett, glancing over at him for a brief moment with a soft smile on his lips. Garrett looked away from him.  
  
He had a nice smile. It brought out laugh lines Garrett would not have expected him to have. But they highlighted his face perfectly.  
  
"You do not seem to be a bad man, Garrett." Corvo suddenly says, the smile faded, but still with faint traces visible. "I should like to know what brought you here."  
  
Garrett glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. He said nothing. Because men with the brightest smiles were the best liars. And Garrett would not allow himself to be wooed.  
  
Corvo just continued to watch Garrett as his inner monologue continued. Eventually, he sighed, the smile faded completely and he turned to watch the flickering fire just as Garrett was. "Do keep in mind that I owe you very much for the events of tonight. As does Jessamine. And I do want to...help you."  
  
Another few moments passed before Garrett answered. "I don't believe you. AndI am entirely entitled to do so."  
  
The guard sighed. And they were left in silence for what must have been the dozenth time in the past several minutes.  
  
"I will not name any names. And..." He pauses to look sternly at Corvo. Despite their current positions, the look almost intimidated him. "You will swear on your honor you will not inquire as to the identity of my fence."  
  
Corvo seems to consider for a moment, looking almost conflicted. But then rather quickly agrees. "Very well. Upon my honor I pledge that whomever your fence should be, they will not be revealed to me without your due consent."  
  
"The Empress's ring." Garrett immediately answers. "I was to retrieve the ring which lay in the Empress's quarters and leave it for pick-up shortly within the entrance to the sewage system outside of the castle."  
  
Corvo looks thoroughly confused. "The ring is to be given to the Empress's betrothed...not many know the location."  
  
Garrett shrugs.  
  
He would have to word this next sentence delicately. "Who...hired you?"  
  
"Only signed it K.D." Garrett answers. "He had said the payment of...shall we just say a very large sum- would be delivered to my fences location upon his finding of the ring."  
  
Briefly, Corvo blinks, then looks to Garrett."This man...he knows where your fence runs his business."  
  
The thief's eyes widen, and he lets out a panicked huff. This man who had hired him...they were dangerous. Plenty dangerous to pose a deadly threat to Basso...or Erin...  
  
"Garrett." Corvo continues,almost spurred into action by Garrett's panic. It stirred something in him. "You must tell me anything you know about this man who hired you."  
  
This was not just a matter of insuring the Empress's safety. Garrett could not stand by and have Basso in danger as he and Erin ventured out to save him.  
  
"I...I don't know much of anything." Garrett answers, wringing his hand together in his lap and squinting at the floor. "The letter was delivered by a third party. A young boy who had been payed to deliver it the next week. He likely was not even in the city by the time I received it."  
  
Corvo nods and he too turns to look at the spot on the floor that so aptly held Garrett's attention.  
  
"However." Garrett adds on after a moment. "He said 'He would know' when the task was completed and that that was when I would receive my payment. He must at least have ties with the castle."  
  
The guard hums softly in response before coming to a small realization. "I think I know exactly who to talk to about this."

* * *

  
  
"Sokolov." Corvo greets as he enters the room, briefly bringing his attention away from the guard that was sat on one of the medical beds. "I'd like to speak with you when you've the time."  
  
The doctor shrugs and continues with the guard before answering. "Sit over there for now, whatever you have for me can wait until we check on your leg."  
  
Ah yes, Corvo had forgotten he was to come to Sokolov the next few upcoming days to insure his wound did not get infected or worse. Daud had had a habit of using poisons and such on his weapons, so it was not out of the realm of possibility.  
  
A few minutes later, and the guard had been sent out of the room, and Sokolov had gone off to retrieve fresh bandages before returning to Corvo and kneeling in front of the bed he had sat upon.  
  
"What did you need to ask me?"  
  
As he begins unwrapping Corvo's leg, the guard answers. "You had mentioned before that you had concernse about corruption in the ranks of the guards."  
  
"I did. And Daud had indeed been among the men in question." Sokolov stands and grabs some sort of salve before continuing. "I had not expected this sort of outcome, though."  
  
"But you had been investigating him yes?" Corvo continues his inquiries. "I should like to continue with that if I may. Would you be willing to share what you had found?"  
  
The doctor rolls his eyes. "Why would that even be in question?" He points to a drawer visible in his office with one hand while beginning to re-wrap his leg with the other. "All of my notes are in there. You may use whatever you need. But do be sure to stay off your feet a bit more, your wound has widened a bit."  
  
"Of course." Corvo had no plans to follow that. Insuring the capture of Jessamine's failed overthrowers was much more important.

* * *

  
  
"Basso." Erin interrupts from where she stood perched in the back window of the room.  
  
The heavyset man flinches so hard his knee slams up into the box stood in front of him. "God, girl." He growls softly (It was late and he wasn't about to wake any of the sailors that were inhabiting the ship with them.) "You do know you're not sneaking about, yeah? We payed for these tickets. And they built those there doors to be walked through."  
  
She just rolls her eyes and steps down, carefully bringing her right arm through after her to reveal the small crow perched on her forearm. "She brought back the letter."  
  
At Erin holding up the familiar parchment, Basso reels back a bit before walking over. Jenivere flutters over to his shoulder and picks at his hair.  
  
"You think..." Erin begins, a very serious look on her young face.  
  
Basso responds with an unexpected slam of an open palm on the box nearest to him. "You said you had an in!"  
  
"I do." Erin hisses back. "But things happen. Just cause I have an in don't mean I'm bewitching the entire castle."  
  
A panicked breath, and Basso looks around a bit before fiddling with the string tied about the parchment. Then he pauses. "This's a double-overhand."  
  
Erin's face shows absolutely no sign of recognition. "What?"  
  
"The knot." Basso holds the letter a bit closer to the torch that was quickly flickering out. Erin still just looks on blankly. "I only ever use a bowline knot on my parcels."  
  
At that, Erin snatches the parchment back from Basso's hand, immediately unfurling the knot and nigh ripping the paper in half in her haste.  
  
The sound of her gasping through her grit teeth seemed explosively loud in the pensive silence.  
  
Basso quickly moves to her side, placing a hand on Erin's shoulder to better his view.  
  
Upon the paper sat a single faded dark word.  
  
"No?" Erin eventually asks.  
  
Once again, Basso huffs and takes the letter from Erin's hand, shoving it into his coat pocket.  
  
"Basso." Erin interrupts his walk to the door that led to the sleeping quarters. "That was written in-"  
  
"I know." He answers, not even looking back to her. "Nothing we can do now besides wait for the ship to dock."

* * *

  
  
It was with no small amount of horror that Garrett awoke the next day feeling nigh perfect. There was a tiny tickle in the back of his throat, but his head felt fine, the room actually felt quite chilly rather than the suffocating heat of prior.  
  
And, unlike many of the previous days, he had woken before the guard who still lay still as a log on his bed in the corner.  
  
So Garrett slowly sat, the blanket fell and pooled at his lap and he simply gazed out the locked and shuttered window. He couldn't catch much of a glimpse of anything besides an occasional small snowflake flying past. All he birds were long gone.  
  
Outside the hallway, the thief could distinctly hear dozens of feet dashing every which way for the next half hour as he sat and contemplated. Eventually, there was a bang, a yell and a brief commotion that seemed to jerk Corvo out of his slumber.  
  
He immediately whipped his head about to face Garrett who, from his place still atop the other side of the bed, shrugged and looked back to the window. The sight inbetween the shutters was rather narrow, so Garrett sould not see the complete picture, but somewhere between the fifth and sixth shutter from the top, the sky had gone from a light blue to an almost sickly blue grey.  
  
"What happened?" Corvo asked to someone outside the door, evidentially he had been in such a ruch he had barely had time to don his coat over his smallclothes.  
  
"A lady and I were delivering firewood to this wing, sir." A young man answers. "She tripped and fell, so I had her retire to the medical wing."  
  
Garrett, unable to curb his curiosity, got from his sitting position where a blonde ponytailed guard stood with a nervous look on his face. They briefly locked eyes and the guard turned to Corvo and muttered something Garrett shouldn't hear.  
  
Corvo laughed and waved whatever it was he said off. "There's no need for worry, everything is under control." The man doesn't look quite convinced, and whispers something once more.  
  
"Go on then." Corvo answers. "Thank you for the firewood."  
  
"Aye, tis no trouble." The guard answers with a respectful dip of his head. "And do be careful of going outdoors. They say this blizzard may fully block in the castle."  
  
With that, the guard leaves and Corvo turns back to the room after retrieving the wood from the hallway, closing the door behind him.  
  
Briefly, Garrett's eyes drift to the well haired chest that lay revealed through Corvo's still open coat. He...was quite well built. Garrett was glad they were on...slightly better terms than they had been.  
  
It would do Garrett well to play into Corvo's warming opinion of him. He still didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him. He would keep him at arm's length. Because no matter what happened, Garrett was still his prisoner.  
  
And he didn't trust him.  
  
"Erm..." Corvo clears his throat, buttoning up his coat and refusing to look Garrett in the eyes. Dear Gods, had Garrett been caught staring at him? He's been told he had a bad habit of almost blanking when he got deep in thought. "There's a code of conduct for these types of blizzards. The prisoners are normally moved to better stocked rooms, so I imagine despite your bettering health you should be allowed an extension to your stay."  
  
Not sure how to respond, Garrett mutters a brief thanks and continues to nor meet Corvo's gaze.  
  
They both turn and ignore one another once more, Garrett nervously fiddling with his thumbs and Corvo continuing to garb himself.  
  
He had no idea what sort of perverse thing prompted him to glance over out of the corner of his eyes as the larger man bent down to pull his trousers over his smallclothes.  
  
Briefly, he glimpsed a bulge and immediately turned away to try and retain some of his dignity. His body was strung as tight as a bowstring, and his face was absolutely burning.  
  
"Okay." Corvo murmurs softle, hardly loud enough for Garrett to hear. "Hmmm..."  
  
He crosses the room in four long strides. "Perhaps I was mistaken, you're still looking quite red." With that, he moves to lay the back of his palm against Garrett's forehead.  
  
A panicked sound leaves Garrett before he can stop it, and he nigh throws himself away from the bed, accidentally slamming his thigh into the endtable.  
  
Which hurt so, so much more than it should have. With a grunt, Garrett grabs his thigh with one hand, and the endtable with the other in an almost claw-like fashion, and very abruptly remembering that he had left the nail in his pocket some days ago. How it had gone unnoticed until now was almost unbelievable.  
  
Corvo stands shockingly still for a very very long moment, hand still extended. "You're bleeding." He finally says, disbelief very clear in his voice. For how in the devil did someone cut themself on a rounded endtable through a layer of clothing.  
  
"How in the devil..." Garrett mutters, putting as much of an act as he can while slowly slipping the nail out of his pocket, tucking it into his palm, and lifting his hand from his leg, where a bright patch of red had indeed appeared.  
  
Corvo turns away, arms crossed, and Garrett softly drops the nail, rolling it with his foot underneath the bed. The guard paces back and forth along a short length of the room before going to the door and retrieving a long length of thick twine from the hook by the door that his coat normally hung over.  
  
"Come on then." Corvo says, holding out the rope. "Give me your hands, We're going to go to the medical ward."  
  
"...Why?"Garrett asks, hands firmly at his sides.  
  
Corvo rolls his eyes and takes both of his hands, Garrett trying to pull back, but being absolutely held by Corvo's warm hands that absolutely engulfed his. He stopped struggling. And refused to question why.  
  
"You have the right to medical care after what you did for Jesse." Corvo answers, tying Garrett's hands together a bit loosely compared to a mere two weeks ago when Garrett was tied to the torture chair. "But Sokolov is a busy man, and I cannot keep calling him from his work."  
  
Garrett would not object. his was a chance to see the layout of the castle.

* * *

  
  
Corvo was an absolutely horrid liar, and he's quite frankly shocked that Garrett took what he said at face value. Sokolov never minded leaving the medical bay, he liked to interact outside of it but...  
  
The prisoner was acting strangely lately. And Corvo did not exactly know him, so maybe this was just him. Men tended to be delirious and different when engulfed in illess.  
  
But Corvo was mostly worried that the man would be coming down with a case of cabin fever. Corvo tried to treat his prisoners...fairly. To some degree. As fairly as the deserved. And as it were, Corvo was unsure if Garrett deserved to be here.  
  
So he would allow him the pleasure of walking about a bit and spend some time outside of the room.  
  
He did not miss the way the thief glances about so much as they walked. Nor the way he flinched every time someone came a bit too close to him. A maid or two gasped and walked off faster in the other direction.  
  
"Sokolov." Corvo called into the ward as they entered the double doors. There were one or two guards lying on the medical beds looking about lethargically, and a maid who had a bloodstained handkerchief pressed to her nose.  
  
"Wait." Sokolov asks, clearly exasperated. He hardly looked up from the parchment he held in his left hand.  
  
"We had a bit of an incident." Corvo answers, tugging a small bit on the twine he led Garrett from to get him to move forward. He remained motionless. "He bumped his leg and-"  
  
"Sir Attano!" A gruff voice shouts loudly, earning a groan from one of the lethargic guards and an eyeroll from Sokolov. "The Empress has asked for your presence in the armory."  
  
"Thank you." Corvo nods at him. "I will depart shortly."  
  
"Depart now." Sokolov interrupts, walking over and retrieving the twine from Corvo's hand. "I shall treat the prisoner as you do your business, and you can retrieve him once you are done."  
  
The gruff guard quickly departs. "Are you-" Garrett begins, only to be cut off once more.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure." Sokolov answers. "I cannot possibly imagine what she would have for you that take longer than a diagnosis."  
  
Corvo glances to Garrett, who was softly chewing on his bottom lip. He looked nervous. But...Sokolov was trustworthy. He had already begun treating Garrett before, he wouldn't want his work to go to waste. "Very well. Thank you, Sokolov. I will return promptly."  
  
The doctor waves him off and Corvo leaves, Garrett's eyes following him the entire way.  
  
Corvo almost felt bad. There had been a look in Garrett's eyes, so lost and nervous that at almost made Corvo feel for him.  
  
He felt bad... but there was no thing he could see that would possibly be the cause of his guilt.  
  
"Good morning, my lady." Corvo greets, walking into the armory with a still slightly concerned look on his face.  
  
Jessamine seemed to consider asking of it, but decided against it. "Morning, Corvo." She answers. "Worry not, this will take naught but a brief moment."  
  
She turns and takes a medium sized parcel from the counter that Piero stood behind as always. "This is for the thief. I obviously cannot give him much of worth, but hopefully returning to him his clothing shall express my thanks."  
  
Briefly, Garrett's hunched, tiny frame flashed in his mind. How he had looked so vulnerable. "I'm sure it will. This is very kind of you, Jesse."  
  
Jessamine hums, and turns back to the counter. "Back to your business then, Corvo, I'm sure you are very busy."  
  
Corvo almost teases her. She had always been a very prompt and to the point type of person, and every now and then, Corvo almost thought if he did not know her well so well, he would think her a cold sow.  
  
But there was still Piero in the room, and Corvo didn't want any more rumours starting now that they had finally begun to quell. "Aye, have a good day, my lady."  
  
Well, that was a bit unexpected, but certainly not a bad thing. With the threat of the upcoming blizzard (Which had likely actually started by now, now that he thought of it) Corvo had planned to go and retrieve a coat or summit the like.  
  
There was of course the fire and the beddings, but they still failed under harsh conditions. And those tended to appear quite often. Dunwall was nigh notorious for it's fierce winters.  
  
"Sir Attano?" A voice interrupts his thoughts once more, and Corvo turns to find a dainty blonde maid nervously crimping a piece of paper with her fingers. "I..." She begins, pauses for a moment, and begins once again. "I was close to Sir Daud for a bit of time. We...shared a bed for quite some time. I am unsure how much of what he had told me is true, but he had told me of a small abode he owns in a small hobble near here."  
  
With that, she hands Corvo the paper, and is met only with dumbfounded silence. "I was told you be the one to deliver this to." She glances about. "I'll be praying for the Empress's safety."  
  
"Thank you." Corvo finally answers, giving the maid a small bow before she departs with a shy and still very much nervous smile.  
  
As he continues to the medical bay, Corvo opens the folded parchment.  
  
It simply read:  
  
_ Thirty clicks inland along the trade-route, the fourth left house along the main road of the village. With the weather as it is, I should suspect he shall be retreating to it within the next few days._  
  
Corvo quirks a brow, looks about a bit, and turns back around. He had to speak to the General of the Guard about this.

* * *

  
  
Garrett was panicking. He couldn't see any of the rays of sunshine coming through the oppressive dark clouds. The medical bay had quickly darkened and the doctor had ushered the others out soon after, pausing to glance at Garrett every now and then as he lit a torch and started to clean up the various utensils that lay about.  
  
Eventually, he sighed and sat next to the still restrained thief. Garrett tried to shy away a bit, but was still tied to the headpost.  
  
A very long moment passed before either of them spoke. "I didn't mishear, did I?"  
Garrett eventually asks, sarcasm laden heavily in his voice. "He said he would be back shortly?"  
  
Sokolov raises a brow, and snorts a laugh. "Yes, I do believe he did."  
  
He didn't know why, but being away from Corvo in this gods-forsaken castle was absolutely terrifying. The guard had seemed to have a change of heart lately, and had almost been treating him kindly. None of the other guards had any sort of reason to not harass or harm him.  
  
He was out in the open. Exposed. He had no cover, no armor, and no way to hide his face. And he was tied to a bed with a doctor curiously looking at him from the chair nearest to him. Who was liley going to press more about the strange wound on his leg. The only way Garrett had gotten out of it before was by refusing to speak any further. The doctor had decided there had likely been something hiding in his bedding and left it at that for the time.  
  
Luckily, the moment he moved to speak, the door almost slammed open to a panting Corvo. "I apologize!" He says, rushing into the room. "A bit of info had come up about Daud and I had to make sure the paper made it to the right hands."  
  
"Yes, yes." The doctor answers, waving him off and moving to snuff out the torch from before. "Get out already so I may retire."  
  
With that, Corvoquickly untied Garrett from the bed and they departed. The hallways were much more intimidating in the dark that was only occasionally broken by the light of a torch held by a guard on duty.  
  
"Delivering a document took four hours?" Garrett asks, a sarcastic tone infesting his voice.  
  
Corvo smiled a bit sheepishly, and Garrett almost felt bad for being exasperated. "We had to call an emergency meeting. I apologize, Garrett." Once they reached the now familiar room, he continued. "Jessamine had wanted me to deliver something to you, though."  
  
"...Really..." Garrett mutters. He couldn only imagine it would be a warrant to discuss his sentence.  
  
The guard nods, closing the door and locking it behind them before removing Garrett's bindings. Dear gods, it had gotten incredibly freezing in the time they had been gone.  
  
"Here." Corvo hands him a black bundle that felt so very familiar to his palms. "She wished for you to be garbed to fight against the blizzard."  
  
Oh. Garrett turns it over once, silent in his confusion. "If you wish to dress, I shall go about starting the fire."  
  
They both turn from each other, Garrett starting to unfold the items with no small amount of care. He would be grateful to her, should she not be the one imprisoning him. It was odd. There was almost a guilt building in him for him not being grateful in any way.  
  
But there was another side of him that reminded him over and over that he owed her absolutely nothing. They were the same two parts that were fighting in the same way over his feelings on the guard on the other side of the room.  
  
And it was a small bit more justified in relation to him as the guard was not the one who was pushing for his death, at least to his knowledge. But then again, the Empress didn't seem to be doing so either if her recent actions were any indication.  
  
Along those lines, it seemed that they had cared enough for his armour that no new scratches or marks had found their ways onto it.  
  
Then, upon lifting the harness that he would not be equipping as it was not safe to sleep in, he found a small parchment staring back at him.  
  
Garrett glanced behind him, to where Corvo was cursing softly and still attempting to light a flame, then turned back to the folded letter. He quickly unfolded, and read as quickly as he could. A skill he had had much time to master with the many letters he found in his thieving.  
  
It read:  
  
_ Garrett._  
  
_ I have been told of a plan by a certain pair by the name of Erin and Basso. And I do not mean to dismiss their abilities, but I should think if the Master Thief cannot mae it through my palace, then his accomplices will like not as well._  
  
_ But I myself have not been looking forward to making the decision of your punishment. I have returned to you your garments. In the left topmost pocket sits your picks. And upon the night the blizzard clears, a clerical error shall be made, resulting in no guards being stationed in the hallways you must use. (The order will be noted at the bottom.)_  
  
_ The Miss Erin and Mr. Basso shall meet you in the courtyard._  
  
_ Sincerely; Jessamine Kaldwin_  
  
_ Left, straight, right, straight to the double doors._  
  
_ Consider this a thank you for saving my life._  
  
Corvo hums as a bright light and warmth finally flicker into existence behind Garrett, who quickly does the only thing he can think of and shoves the letter under the pillow before picking up his trousers, turning to look to Corvo who had turned around. "Oh, my apologies." He says a bit sheepishly before turning back around. "When you are comfortable, just say."  
  
"Thank you." Garrett mutters under his breath. Corvo likely had not even heard.  
  
With his nerves still more than adequately frayed, Garrett continues to change as swiftly as possible. Although it would comfort him greatly to be fully armoured, with his armour consisting of a corset, it would not be comfortable nor healthy to sleep in.  
  
So he settled for refolding his cape around the armoured bits and placing it on the endtable before turning around to see Corvo respectfully keeping his eyes on the fully alight fireplace with his hands folded in his lap that sat atop one of the two armchairs that were positioned by the fireplace.  
  
He had the right idea...the frigid weather outside had very quickly penetrated the stone walls of the palace. Garrett makes his way over to the guard, only clearing his throat and speaking once he reached the other chair, which he placed a hand on as if to claim. "I am finished."  
  
Corvo looks at him with that amused glint in his eyes once more. "So I see." His lips were only upturned the slightest bit, and yet it was such an immensely big departure from just days ago that it left Garrett feeling almost...refreshed. Such open hostility could easily wear on a man's nerves.  
  
But now he was just...distracted. By the small wrinkles that were about Corvo's merry eyes to the way the light of the fire made his hair so much more of a copper hue than it normally looked.  
  
The guard had a very classically shaped face. Strong jaw and brows, deep set eyes that showed too much emotion for his own good. And he wore the beard that was half grown on his face very well.  
  
He was the polar opposite of Garrett himself. The guard was strong and built, wereas Garrett more closely resembled a twig. His facial hair added to his face's charm, while Garrett's was just an uneven scraggly mess that seemed to dip into every creavsse without fail. He had warm brown eyes that could very easily switch from intimidating to caring. Garrett's didn't even match. They looked as it he had stolen one from another man's face.  
  
He was almost shocked by the confidence he exuded, for such a hideous man.  
  
Upon looking to the other, he found the smile fallen from his face and a new strange thing replacing it. His lips were pursed, and his head had fallen slightly more to one side. And he was staring at him.  
  
Garrett turned away from him.  
  
The guard just chuckled again, placed his elbows on his knees, his chin on his folded hands, and continued to stare. "You're quite the mystery, Garrett."  
  
The way he said his name sent a shiver down Garrett's spine. "Well I should certainly hope so."

* * *

  
  
It was a very well known fact about him, but Corvo absolutely dreaded the cold. He had a large quantity of heavily furred coats simply waiting in his room for any sign of frost, even though he always seemed to gravitate towards one time after time.  
  
From the looks of things, Garrett seemed to not mind the first few days, but quickly after started to get a nigh permanent shiver all the way through his flimsy limbs. And it was not as if Corvo could not relate. With the severity of this cold spell, the castle had essentially shut down.  
  
The maids were given shorter and shorter shifts, and it had chilled enough that it was a health hazard to send their men out to receive more timber. So they had begun a sort of rationing of their timber.  
  
After a warming in the morning and early evening, there were none more left for the still shared room of Garrett and Corvo. Corvo had been offered to return to his own room, but he had rather quickly denied.  
  
Having a guard stationed outside of the room in this weather, as well as then having to provide firewood to the two rooms combined would be a ridiculous choice to make. Jessamine had just given him that slightly amused, knowing look. Gods know why.  
  
But he had had this thought for a while now. It had been something he had partaken in during his days in service to the royal army.  
  
And that was when the soldiers had been paired up in tents together during the winter so as to share a bed and thus body heat. Of course, it was not implied that they should actually...lay with one another, but Corvo knew several men who often partook. He himself had done so perhaps a few times. But that had absolutely nothing to do with his current plan. It had not even crossed his mind to begin with.  
  
Although it had come fairly soon after. But Corvo was not a savage, and the thoughs were quickly discarded as soon as they appeared. It would be absolutely unacceptable for him to bring it up unmentioned, even if Garrett was still his prisoner. In fact, that perhaps made it worse. He would never want to force himself on someone using his power as the captain of the guard.  
  
He would strive to approach it with nothing but finesse. Unfortunately, that was not exactly a strong suit of his.  
  
So, while on his way back from a brief visit with Emily, he had stopped in the kitchens and retrieved another kettle of tea, finding it almost remniscent of his daily routine when Garrett had still remained ill. Only this time he had been free to brew his favorite instead of the medicinal one of before.  
  
He liked to think of it as a sort of way to placate the other man to make him more agreeable, as the idea of him sharing a bed with the thief was nothing but a plus to him, considering his aversion to the cold.  
  
However, Corvo liked to think that he was good at reading people, and the readings he got from Garrett was that he was a very reclusive and restrained man.  
  
And while that certainly could be from him being the captor of him, bits and pieces of other prisoners more friendly or boisteroud attitudes always seemed to shine through despite their best efforts. None of which he had seen in the thief.  
  
In fact, through all the hostility and wariness that even still persisted, the thief almost seemed like a respectable man. Which was almost alarming. That his own moral code was lax enough to allow himself to view a criminal as respectable.  
  
But, as he seemed to be doing so much more often lately, it was shoved to the back of his mind. He didn't really care all that much.  
  
He didn't even care that he was becoming more and more used to going to his room after his duties and finding the tiny man staring back at him. Sometimes he greeted him, sometimes he didn't. But he didn't flinch or hide like he used to. That only seemed like more and more of a plus to Corvo.  
  
Garrett was...interesting to him. He knew so so little about him, even through them spending vast amounts of time amongst one another this past month.  
  
He had come to thieve from them, and yet had saved Jessamine's life. He had likely commited heinous, unforgivable acts, but Corvo didn't want to believe that. He could not see him killing, maiming, or otherwise performing misdemeanors. Because he liked him. And he wasn't quite sure in what way he meant that.  
  
However, should he long for him in that way, Garrett assuredly would not feel the same.

* * *

  
  
The very familiar sound of the door opening cut through the oppressive silence that remained in the freezing cold room. Briefly, the wind rattled the window so hard that Garrett almost worried it would blow off it's hinges. The snow still flew past at blinding speeds.  
  
"Good Evening." Corvo says as he enters, bringing with him a soft lemony scent. From where Garrett sat on one of the chairs with the blanket from the bed wrapped about his shoulders, he craned his head over to watch the guard enter.  
  
In his hands he held the same tea-set that Garrett had not seen in the past few days.  
  
And upon his face sat one of the most relaxed looks Garrett had seen upon it so far. So Garrett returned his greeting in kind, prompting a bit of a smile to grow over the relaxed look.  
  
The guard placed the tray on the small endtable that sat between the two chairs and took his place opposit from Garrett, proceeding to pour for the both of them, adding a single cube of sugar to his own and neglecting Garrett's, as he had come to learn that that was how the thief took his.  
  
No more conversation came to them until their beverages were downed and gone, and Corvo had moved to shuck his coat in preparation of sleep. He paused for a moment in his undershirt by the coat hook before turning back to Garrett who had replaced the covers on the bed and stalled.  
  
Corvo cleared his throat, then spoke. "I should like to speak to you on something."  
  
Garrett remained staring at him for a moment. "...Yes?"  
  
Another large gust of wind shook the windows, and a shiver nigh simultaneous made it's way through the two men. "Oh the matter of sharing a bed."  
  
For a moment, neither really knew what type of reaction would come of this. Garrett glanced about for a bit, then answered. "I can see the benefits of such an arrangement, should you wish to do so."  
  
Suddenly, Corvo felt like a giddy child once more. He watched for a moment as Garrett continued to vaguely straighten the bed before turning to remove the rest of his armaments and retrieve his bedding from where it lay upon the cold wooden floor.  
  
He was endlessly grateful that his proposal had been so quickly agreed to, (almost suspiciously so) as he had bee finding his back quite stiff and riddled with aches now that the cold weather had been piled atop the hard floor he spent his nights on.  
  
No words were exchanged as Corvo awkwardly took his place on the opposite side of the bed as the thief, being sure to give him as much space as possible. And Garrett did just the same, almost falling off the bed in his effort to get space. So much so that the covers only half engulfed his frame.  
  
Corvo ignored it for a bit, but soon, as the snow began falling heavier once more, and the drafts cut through even to Corvo, he placed a hand on Garrett's shoulder. "This will not do much good it you remains outside of the bed."  
  
Garrett didn't answer for a long, long time before scooting in just enough that he was fully covered, still not facing the guard.  
  
Eventually, they both wound up facing away from each other, only the sound of gently slowing breathes filling the room.  
  
There was an odd exciting feeling in his chest, and it did not shake until he fell asleep.

* * *

  
  
When Garrett awoke, it was to a head lying on his shoulder, and dark hair alarmingly close to his mouh. Somehow immediately even through the grogginess of his still sleepy mind, his entire body tensed and he very slowly turned his head to his right. He had almost forgotten the events of the last night.  
  
The guard's shoulders were slowly rising and falling, and his mouth was every so slightly agape. It sent tingles down Garrett's spine. Even in his unruffled state, he still he still had such a rugged handsomeness to him. It was entrancing.  
  
As well as very confusing.  
  
Garrett had found out a long, long time ago that he preffered more...masculine characteristics. Ever since he was thirteen adn Senior had given him a lecture that he wouldn't assist any whelps he fathered. He just could not see himself doing those things with any of the squeeling pigs that passed for the women he had met in the bars Senior frequented.  
  
Of course, he had since met noblewomen who dressed fancily and thus looked quite beautiful. But still, he admired their looks, but did not want anything to do with them.  
  
Corvo, on the other hand...well to put it in a more distinguished way, he was ticking all the right boxes. Even his soft breathes that filtered through the even so slightly brightening room.  
  
He paused for a long moment, just looking about nervously. Corvo had proven to be a very heavy sleeper. The only time he had awoken from any activities Garrett had performed as he lay asleep was on the first night he lay sick.  
  
So Garrett very, very gently lays a hand on the guard's head, closing his eyes and praying that if Corvo woke, he would assume he was sleeping. Nothing followed. So he slowly ran his fingers lightly through the rough hair, pausing time and time again at any sight of anything from Corvo, who remained sleeping.  
  
A horribly warm feeling had settled in his chest, not too different from when one chugged a hot drink too quickly after a cold night's thieving. The guard's face looked so...kind and gentle. Many of the wrinkles that spotted his face had smoothed out, and there was a tiny smile curling the corners of his lips.  
  
It was odd, even the world seemed to brighten with his mood. Or perhaps it was the sun that was shining through the window-panes. It was likely reflecting off of the snow very much.  
  
Oh, the sun was out.  
  
He blinks a few times, stopping his hand's movement and glancing once more to the window.  
  
The storm had cleared up.

* * *

  
  
"You need some help there, Basso?" Erin chuckles almost maliciously as she holds out a hand to the man who was limping down the ramps the boat crew had tossed to meet the dock.  
  
Basso scoffs and waves her off. Jenivere squaked indignantly from his shoulder at the movement. After a fewmoments of shaking off his leg, he turns and speaks to Erin. "I know a fence who owns a pub 'round here. Said he'd lend us a room for a few hours."  
  
"Good." Erin smiles. Sometimes bringing Basso along could be useful, he at least had connections. "We'll talk more about it there then."  
  
"Aye." Basso answers. "And try to keep your hands to yourself for a bit, Erin. Don't want to risk it right now."  
  
Normally, Ering would snap back, but she absolutely agreed with him. While her and Garrett had not left off on the best foot, she would never wish any sort of ill will upon him, and would certainly not risk his, and potentially her and Basso's lives. So she settles for saying. "I'm not stupid."  
  
It took about fifteen minutes of traversing the absolutely buried roads to come upon the pub that sat on a corner with an enormous sign labelling it. "The Hound Pits, eh?" Erin asks, crossing her arms to crane her head and read the sign.  
  
"Well, come on then." Basso motiongs to the door. "Daylight's burning, and you're informant said we must arrive by sunset, yes?"  
  
"Yes,yes, keep your tailfeathers in check, Basso." Erin answers, entering the pub directly behind him. "We've hours yet."  
  
The burly man behind the counter whistles to Basso, waving and quickly afterwards tossing a key to him. Basso fumbles, and drops it. The man laughs boisterously, and Basso looks over to Erin. "Could you eh..." He motions to the key.  
  
"Oh no, it's all yours." Erin answers, leaning on the wall behind her for good measure. The fence scoffs, and very slowly kneels to pick it up.  
  
"That old knee acting up again?" The pub owner asks, leaning on the counter in front of him in classic bartender fashion.  
  
"Yeah." Basso stands once more, keys triumphantly in his hand. "Always does this in cold weather."  
  
"Well. I wish you luck then." The two wave once more as Basso and Erin go up the stairs in the corner of the room.  
  
The moment they unlock the room upstairs, Basso heavily falls into the cushioned chair in the corner. Jenivere takes off onto a shelf as Erin shuts the door behind them and sits on the bed. "So what've you got then?" Basso asks. "You said that your informant would let us in, what door?"  
  
"She said she'd leave a door unlocked in the west wing. Clear shot to the courtyard from there, where she'll meet us with Garrett." Erin answers.  
  
"She's going to be able to get him out of there all right?" Basso responds, looking very genuinly worried and tapping a finger nervously on the arm of the chair.  
  
Erin barks out a laugh. "Oh, I'm sure she has her ways."

* * *

  
  
The guard was late. He normally would arrive briefly after the sun set, but Garrett had since been waiting two hours with no sign of him. He had been nervous. Any moment he could return, and Garrett didn't much want this place going into high alert while he was trying to escape.  
  
So he waited...and waited...and waited, until it seemed to be more risky to remain any longer than he had. The letter had been vague. Were it a job he were taking, he would absolutely demand more information before accepting.  
  
But this wasn't a job. This was his life on the line. As it had been the entire time he was here. He had earned himself a favor from the Empress. It was nothing more then that, and he would certainly not get another one. Still though, he stalled...a thought would not leave his mind.  
  
And that was that he would never see Corvo again. He knew it should not bother him as such, and he was not sure still why it was. But evenso, he could not berid himself of the tightness in his chest. Of the worry tearing through him.  
  
Why in the world was this guard enough to bring him to this?  
  
"Hey."A girl's voice whispers curtly from the hall. "Hurry it up, we don't have all night, you know."  
  
That seemed to be able to jerk him into motion. Garrett quickly stood from the chair, and fell into the familiar stnace he had not had much use for in the past month.  
  
Ironically, the lock on his door was incredibly simple. Just a simple house lock. He likely could have picked it with the same bobby pin he had used for the window. It hard took him twenty seconds before he had cracked open the door, steadying it with both hands. "...Erin?" He whispers.  
  
"Not quite." The voice answers much too loudly, taking the door from his hands and opening it the rest of the way. There was a little girl standing in front of his dressed in noblewoman's training gear with a big smile on her face. "I'm Emily. Mom wants me to lead you to the courtyard."  
  
She starts waslking down the hall, then pauses and waits for Garrett to sneak up behind her. "Why the directiond then?" He murmurss almost too quietly to hear.  
  
The girl giggles, and Garrett is struck, for a moment with how much she resembled Erin. It was almost alarming. "She made a mistake. It said left, straight, right, straight, yeah?"  
  
Garrett nods, then realizes that the girl is in front of him and could obviously not see him. "Yeah." He answers.  
  
"Supposed to be left, straight, left, straight." She returns, still chipper as she was before and near prancing through the halls. That was something she and Erin certainly did not share.  
  
Garrett would thank her...but he was still unsure. Children could very easily be the instruments to drag one into traps. Even if she knew or not, Garrett did not trust her.  
  
But they still made it to the double doors that led to the courtyard. Through the glass, one lit torch could be seen. With absolutely no worry, the girl threw open the door and spoke to the occupants. "Mom?"  
  
"Come in, Emily." A woman's voice answers, and Garrett's blood runs cold. He had only heard it once before, but he still recognized it.  
  
It was the Empress. She was waiting.  
  
Emily very confidently strode forward, though, only stopping when she realized that, once again, Garrett was not following. "Wow, you're really slow." She laughs before returning and almost dragging Garrett forward by his left arm.  
  
Upon entering and rounding a snow encrusted bush, Garrett was met with the Empress and as well as Corvo simply sitting on a bench with a torch quietly resting in the guards right hand. He looked much, much more confused than Garrett, but had not pulled the blade that sat at his waist, and did not even stand to face him.  
  
The Empress seemed to not that, though, and turned to Corvo. "You did not read the note?" She queries. Corvo blinks twice before slowly shaking his head. The Empress gives Garrett an almost amused look before explaining. "Well, I have learned of a plan to free our prisoner, and quite frankly, I did not wish to decide his fate. I cannot condemn the man who saved my life to hanging, but should I not, the nobles will surely take issue. However, he is the Master Thief, and should he escape our captivity, it would not be a surprise."  
  
Corvo remains silent for a long moment, then chuckles. "You always were a schemer, Jesse. Do you wish me to escort him to his allies?"  
  
"Nay." Jessamine waves off his concern. "I should hope they arrive any minute now."  
  
With the tension diminished, Garrett slowly stood to his puny full height. Emily watched him, still with that smile glued to her face. "You have wierd hands." She says, making a comical claw motion.  
  
"Emily." Jessamine and Corvo scold her simultaneously. Garrett however, just gives a single amused hum. He was starting to like this girl. Probably a dangerous thing considering how things went with Erin.  
  
Suddenly, the doors on the other side of the room open a bit and Erin's head pokes out, breiefly studying the room before sighing in relief, then groaning and waling in.  
  
"Hello, Jesse." She says, almost sounding obligated to with the way she was gritting her teeth.  
  
"Evening, cuzz."Jessamine answers, an almost sadistic smile on her face before very deliberately continuing. "It's nice to finally see you again."  
  
Erin rolls her eyes, and turns around. "Come on then, Garrett, Basso's waiting at The Hound Pits. We can talk there." She turns for on minute. "See you, Jesse."  
  
Jessamine smiles almost angelically and waves. Garrett glanced about once more as he follows Erin, eventually locking eyes with Corvo, who's face reads like a book wher every line read some rhetoric about confliction. He stood.  
  
"...Will I see you again?" He eventually asks, looking about ready to grab hold of him.  
  
Garrett pauses, and steps a bit closer, pausing for a moment to contemplate whether or not he had completely mis-read their relationship before deciding that there was little risk now as he was already nearly out the door.  
  
So he snatched the nape of the man's neck and pulls him down, forcing a single chaste kiss to Corvo's lips before pulling back and watching the guard's eye go wide and his fingers lightly brush his lips.  
  
"I should certainly hope so." He says, ignoring the amused chuckles of Jessamine in the background before turning and making a mad dash out of the room.  
  
Yes, he certainly did hope so.

* * *

  
  
Epilogue:  
  
"So." Erin says as the three finally sit down together deep within the bowels of the ship. "You're looking awfully healthy for being a prisoner for the past month."  
  
Garrett warily looks up to her. "I suppose." He was rather well taken care of in the last half at least. The girl's face gets that mischevious look on it, and she holds up an unfurled piece of parchment with Garrett's own handwriting on it, as well as his own...fluids.  
  
She slowly starts snickering as Garrett looks away and crosses his own arm.

"You drama Queen."

**Author's Note:**

> So imma go ahead and make this a prologue to a series. 
> 
> Yup.
> 
> Take that.
> 
> (Don't expect it to be here for a while tho, it took my a few months to write this one.)


End file.
